Subside
by d r a m a t i s . e c h o
Summary: A few various one-shots! This is more of an outlet for me to experiment with ideas for future stories. If you LIKE one particular one-shot, please review/comment and let me know! Style, Creek, Cran, Bunny, Kytophe, and many others
1. Song To The Siren :: Style

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD… like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings: **Multiple!

**Summary: **This is just a series of one-shots… I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, Espresso Con Panna, etc).

**Notes I: **There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II :** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics… I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE – I'd like your opinions as well… so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know

**Notes III:** WOOT … all the usual, smut, fluff, romance, angst, hurt, friendship, etc.

* * *

**Pairing:** Kyle/Stan, Craig/Tweek

**Shot-Theme: **Song To The Siren – by - Paul Charlier & Paula Arundell

This particular one-shot is inspired by the opening scene of the film 'Candy' … so ahead and watch it on youtube ;) You'll get the vibe of this word-drizzle lol

* * *

Stepping awkwardly into the huge, circular pit – Kyle couldn't help but bite his lower lip nervously.

He wasn't really a 'rides' person. Of course, he liked a few of them, but while he'd never admit it, his fear of something going terribly wrong made him vomit almost every time. At least, that was the case when he was alone – or with a few, casual friends;

But as he felt an arm supportively clasp around his shoulders… Kyle looked beside him to see the one person who could bring out the bravest part of himself; Stan Marsh.

The dark haired, blue eyed, gorgeous teen gave his redheaded best friend a calming smile and a nod; nudging Kyle further into the circular ride. It was called the 'Rotor' – and it's purpose was to have the riders stand back against it's round walls, as it spun faster and faster - thus allowing them to somewhat defy gravity… and float along the walls; the pressure holding them in place.

Moving over to one bare part of the wall, Kyle let out a slow breath, as he was somewhat grateful that there were only a few other people there with them. Craig was trying to calm Tweek down, and prevent him from having a nervous breath down. How Craig managed to get Tweek on the ride, Kyle couldn't be sure... but he knew coffee probably had something to do with it. There were three or four other people in there that he didn't recognize. Their school had come to this 'science' center, as an educational cop-out. It had rides and stuff, but the rides were slightly 'educational' – and this one, obviously, focused on speed, pressure and gravity.

Letting out a slow breath, Kyle's green eyes saw the door to the Rotor close; a clear sign the ride was about to start going.

But his rising anxiety was calmed, as he felt Stan slip his hand into his. Glancing down, the redhead blushed slightly – slowly bringing his eyes back up to meet those calming, ocean blue ones. He was a bit taken aback that Stan had just grabbed his hand… it was such a comforting gesture; one that his best friend certainly wasn't _obligated_ to do. But deep down, Kyle was grateful he had. He had always loved Stan more than anything else in his life – but he'd never been able to tell him.

Only recently had Stan broken up with Wendy: for good. It was too soon, wasn't it?

Feeling Stan squeeze his hand reassuringly as they heard the low rumble of the ride powering up, Kyle bit his lower lip nervously again.

Spinning.

His HEAD was spinning, and the ride hadn't even begun.

Slowly, the room began to turn. There were anxious and excited smiles on everyone's faces. Though, of course, Craig was still trying to keep Tweek calm – and was, in a similar fashion to Stan, holding the twitchy blond's hand as he whispered to him.

As the ride began to spin, gradually picking up speed with each smooth rotation – Kyle found his breath getting shorter. It was actually exciting; the feeling felt good… it made your stomach rise, your heart beat and your head rush with a euphoric feeling. As they felt themselves getting lighter – Stan released Kyle's hand, and stuck his arms out; grasping at air as they spun, laughing from the sensation. Feeling a bit bolder and more comfortable himself, Kyle did the same, and stretched his arms out as they spun.

He couldn't even make out Tweek and Craig anymore; everything was a blur.

Everything but the dark-haired boy beside him.

Turning on his side and curling his legs up, Kyle couldn't help but laugh as he noticed Stan rolling from side to side. He felt Stan grab his arm then, shifting over so he and Kyle were right face to face. Their feet weren't even on the ground anymore – they were spinning so fast. Holding onto Stan, the redhead felt his breath catch in his throat as everything became hazy… they were so close; their noses gently bumped against one another as they shifted, feeling disoriented – but keeping any anxiety at bay with the sight of one another.

Shifting his arm and body, Kyle felt himself pulled effortlessly by Stan against him; Kyle's head resting against Stan's shoulder as they spun... both of them looking up at the dizzying ceiling above them. Turning his head to the side, Kyle closed his eyes – reveling in the feeling of being so weightless.

A small smile graced his lips, and a warm feeling flowed through his body as he felt Stan's soft lips and nose nestling against the side of his head and hair; it almost sounded like he was whispering something, but Kyle couldn't make it out. Turning himself over with a great deal of effort (the ride was spinning so fast, it almost felt like it was gluing them in place now) – Kyle returned to face Stan one on one. He couldn't help but close his eyes as Stan leaned in, and placed a gentle, but deep kiss on his lips.

Unable to stop himself from smiling, their kiss broke; and Kyle blinked a few times slowly – as if he wanted to make sure it was real – before his green orbs disappeared behind his eyelids when Stan continued to lightly kiss his smile, and his cheeks. His dark-haired best friend then raised a hand to his cheek; gently cupping Kyle's face, before he planted another kiss on his lips… this one much deeper than the first.

Kyle's moan was unheard over the ride – but to them, only silence surrounded their space. They were caught in their own daze; enjoying their kiss far more than two people who were 'just best friends' should have. But Kyle wasn't worried; and from the look on Stan's face, he wasn't worried either. Everyone on that ride was a blur, and the boys knew that they TOO would just be a blur of color to others riding with them. No one would see.

Time seemed to fade, despite how fast they were spinning.

In that moment, with Stan gently nestling his nose against Kyle's, he felt truly happy. The smile didn't leave his face, and it didn't seem like Stan was going to stop smiling anytime soon either.

As the ride began to slow, both Kyle and Stan immediately pulled apart from one another – relaxing back on the wall, as the ride began to ease up on its speed. They felt that heaviness return, and soon, everyone was forced to stand back on the ground.

Back to reality.

The ride came to a complete stop, and everyone began to filter out. Kyle couldn't help but glance toward Craig and Tweek… and notice that Tweek wasn't twitching. Oddly enough, he seemed rather calm and subdued. Not to mention, Craig was still holding his hand – and while he was normally a stoic asshole – Kyle couldn't help but notice the slight glow in Craig's cheeks, and the adoring way he looked at his twitchy, blond best friend.

"How was it?" Kenny asked lazily as everyone left the ride.

All four boys shrugged; but only Stan answered, "It was ok." He mumbled.

Kenny seemed to take the comment as a - 'it sucked, be glad you didn't go on' - kind of response. So, he wandered off to find other people from their class to entertain him.

But Craig, Tweek, Kyle and Stan just stood there alone – outside the doors of the ride, looking dazed, confused, and feeling incredibly lifted.

Exchanging a quick glance between one another, the four boys headed right back onto the ride.

It's easier to be yourself… to be happy… when you're spinning so fast everything moves in a blur, except the one person you truly WANT to see…

- end -


	2. Oblivious Heart :: Creek

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD… like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings: **Multiple!

**Summary: **This is just a series of one-shots… I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, Espresso Con Panna, etc).

**Notes I: **There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II :** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics… I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE – I'd like your opinions as well… so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know J

**Notes III:** WOOT … all the usual, smut, fluff, romance, angst, hurt, friendship, etc.

* * *

**Pairing:** Craig/Tweek

**Shot-Theme: **A Kick In The Teeth - by - Fischerspooner

So many of my fics/ideas are inspired by songs lol – so this one is no exception.

* * *

Tweek had woken up extra early today. Granted, he didn't sleep much anyway, but today was a big day… a big NERVE-wracking day. Valentines Day. He'd had a shower, and attempted to make himself look at presentable as possible. Naturally, it didn't really work too well - he was wearing his typical dark green button up shirt, though over the past year, he'd finally learned how to button them properly. His jeans hung off his slender hips, and somewhat dragged on the ground; unfurling and fraying around the bottom, though he didn't mind. They already had a few rips and tears in them, but they were his favorite jeans. His blond hair was just as jagged and unruly as it had been when he was little, but now it was a bit longer; not in a girly way, but the shards of blond hair hung in chunks around his face – at times blocking his line of sight, and covering his large hazel eyes.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a good twenty-minutes; twitching and making small noises, before he slid his messenger-bag over his shoulder and headed downstairs and off to school.

As he walked, his eyes hungrily spotted Harbucks; normally, he would have gone straight there, and gotten the largest coffee possible to help get him through the morning.

But he knew there was nothing in his wallet… he'd spent the rest of his money on something else this week – and made the choice to sacrifice his comfort of good coffee for the day.

Finally getting into school – Tweek mumbled anxiously to himself as he saw their high school was decorated in pink, red and white for the festive day. It wasn't overly decorated (like it was, for example, on Halloween), but there were still some hearts hanging here and there.

Heading quickly to his locker, Tweek saw that everyone was already milling around, waiting for the first classes to start. But he didn't really focus on anyone except for Craig Tucker: his best friend, and the secret love of his life.

"H-Hey." Tweek greeted everyone, giving an awkward smile.

Craig simply looked over to him with those damned, lazy gray eyes and nodded a silent greeting. Clyde and Token greeted Tweek, and went back to their own discussion. Twitching, the jagged-haired blond opened his locker and began to get his things out and ready. But as he did this… he saw the most important thing he had brought. His Valentines Day gift for Craig wasn't anything special or grand, but instead, it was small and something he could afford.

But as he glanced over toward the secret object of his affection, he saw Craig talking with Clyde and Token; his hand idly wrapped around Clyde's waist. Oh yeah. Clyde. Most of the time, Tweek forgot they were even dating… which was better, because every time he remembered, a horrible ache passed through his heart. The first few times it happened, Tweek thought he was having a heart attack.

"Hey fellas!" Butters greeted happily. Bouncing over to them all, he began to hand out Valentines to everyone. Kyle and Stan thanked him; those two had been openly dating for a while now – and Kenny was helping Butters pass them out. He was a good boyfriend; it seemed, despite the odds against him with his past of being the school's biggest whore.

While everyone was distracted, Tweek took out his own Valentine – and approached Craig. Gently tapping him on the shoulder, the taller, raven-haired boy turned to look at him quizzically. "What's up, Tweek?" He asked, giving him a small smile.

"Arg! I-I … um… I-I, nngh, just…" He stammered. Oh god; this was going worse than he could have imagined. "I… didn't… gah! H-Here!" He finally choked out, holding out his Valentine to Craig. "H-Happyvalentinesday…" Tweek finished quickly.

Craig quirked a brow, looking from Tweek's hand back up to Tweek's face; which now, had a deep blush on it. "Um… thanks?" He said awkwardly, taking the heart-shaped card from the spazzy blond.

Tweek gave a small smile, but that smile immediately dropped when Craig just turned back to talk to Clyde and Token about the 'lame, but funny' Valentine that Butters had given everyone… it had something to do with Hello Kitty, but Tweek wasn't paying attention. His eyes anxiously stayed glued toward Craig, who held his Valentine loosely between his fingers by his side. Wasn't he going to read it?

The first bell rang, jolting everyone out of their conversations.

* * *

Tweek left his first period feeling more anxious than usual. He couldn't stop thinking about Craig; had he read his Valentine yet? What would he say? "Oh Jesus, this is too much pressure!" The blond exclaimed aloud. No one in the hall looked at him… most everyone was used to Tweek's random outbursts, and now, they just ignored him. While it seemed unlikely, Tweek was kind of hoping to go back to his locker, and see a Valentine from Craig. He could dream, couldn't he?

But as he reached his locker, Tweek saw he was the first one to arrive. Thinking that was probably better, he began to exchange his books for his next class… but something caught his eye. A large, open garbage pail sat at the corner of the hall, close to their lockers. The boys normally kicked it over, or sometimes put Butters into it (though, that hadn't happened for a while, since he started dating an over-protective Kenny). But it wasn't so much the garbage that caught Tweek's eye… but a familiar heart-shaped card.

Tentatively walking over, Tweek flinched as he saw it was his Valentine to Craig… tossed in the trash. It was now half beneath someone else's banana peel. Tweek felt his heart ache again – and tried to violently blink away any tears that were beginning to form. He didn't even read it… why not? Weren't they best friends?

"Hey Tweek," The familiar, friendly voice of Kyle greeted. The redhead seemed to be able to read people incredibly well, because his face immediately fell. "What's wrong?" Kyle asked, as he followed Tweek's sight line to the garbage. He saw the Valentine in it, and his smile fell. "Oh. That's… not…" He started to ask.

But Tweek interrupted, "M-My Valentine to Craig? _Ack_! Yeah –_nngh_- it is." He admitted, sheepishly going back to his locker.

"What a _fucking_ asshole." Kyle hissed out angrily. Moving over to stand beside Tweek at his locker, the redhead looked to him, "Tweek, you need to confront him. Ask him WHY he would be such a dick, and _throw_ your Valentine away. I bet he didn't even read it." He growled. Kyle seemed to be over-protective of all his friends… but Tweek knew he sympathized toward him more than others. In fact, Kyle was one of the few people who knew how he really felt about Craig.

"N-No! _Gah_! … I'm just… I'm not going to –_nngh_- say anything." Tweek stammered, shoving his books into his bag. "I-I don't want to make things worse! _Ack_! Oh Jesus, don't say anything; he'll know how I feel! PROMISE you –_nngh_- won't tell him!" Tweek exclaimed, getting more worked up.

"All right, all right," Kyle said, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. Tweek could still see the reluctance in Kyle's eyes – like he was still secretly debating to tell Craig off for being such an oblivious asshole. But the appearance of Stan took Kyle's focus away… and after he gave a reassuring nod to Tweek – he jogged over to his tall, dark-haired boyfriend and embraced him.

Tweek couldn't help but watch with envy.

* * *

As the day went on, things didn't get much better. Craig never said anything to Tweek about his Valentine, and was acting like the whole thing didn't happen. The more the day dragged on, the more depressed and distraught Tweek became.

Kyle couldn't take it anymore.

Catching Craig at his locker alone, both Kyle and Stan approached him. Well, Kyle more so than Stan, but Stan was brought along for sensible support. He knew his redhead could get over heated in an argument.

"Are you REALLY that blind and stupid?" Kyle asked quickly.

The raven-haired boy lazily looked at them, raising his brow. "What are you talking about?"

"Seriously, does it make you feel good to disregard people's feelings?" Kyle asked again, ignoring Craig's question for the time. "Tweek gave you a Valentine, and you just threw it out?"

His gray eyes flickered over to the trashcan he knew contained the Valentine. "So? It's just a heart-shaped card. What's the big deal?" He asked.

"Did you even READ it?" Kyle snapped. "What kind of best friend are you to that poor kid?"

Craig felt himself starting to get annoyed, "What the fuck do you care?"

"Well obviously I care more about your best friend than _you_ do." Kyle sneered distastefully. "Tweek hasn't even had any coffee today because he used what was left of his money to BUY you that card. Which apparently, was money wasted."

The raven-haired boy's features darkened, "Watch your mouth, Broflovski."

"Calm down." Stan interrupted, stepping between the two. Looking to Craig, Stan flickered his eyes down. "Tweek's your best friend?" Stan asked. Reluctantly, Craig nodded his head. "…then start treating him like one." He finished, turning away and taking Kyle's hand.

Craig watched the two teens walk away with a scowl on his face.

As soon as they were around the corner, he walked over to the garbage, and dug Tweek's valentine out of the trash. He really didn't think it was a big deal; it was just some stupid heart-shaped card. He wasn't going to keep it, because that would seem like there was something between him… and Clyde, no doubt, would throw a fit.

Grabbing the card, Craig brushed it off a bit. It was a little dirty, but not too bad. Opening it up, Craig began to read it –

_You're in my thoughts and in my heart  
Wherever I may go;  
On Valentine's Day, I'd like to say  
I care more than you know._

_Valentine's Day is for expressing affection;  
Fond thoughts are coming your way;  
We've always had a special connection,  
So Happy Valentine's Day._

There was an awkward, scribbled signature at the bottom by Tweek. Furrowing his brow, Craig noticed a new pack of cigarettes (his FAVORITE kind) taped inside the card. A small smile fell on his lips. It wasn't a grand gesture, but cigarette's were kind of expensive… at LEAST equivalent to two cups of coffee that Tweek would have given up to buy them for him. Not to mention, another cup for the equivalent of the card… and he could only imagine, a week of sleepless nights while Tweek stewed over what the reaction of his best friend would be.

And Craig had just thrown it away.

He'd never felt so horrible. He WAS a terrible friend… but more than that, he was a terrible crush. The card was touching, though Craig had a hard time admitting it. He'd always been there for Tweek, but when he and Clyde had started casually seeing one another, he'd had less time for the twitchy blond. Thinking back to it, he'd always noticed Tweek's desire to be around him – the way he never recoiled from any affectionate touch Craig might give him, and the way Craig would catch Tweek looking at him from time to time.

With the rush of information hitting him in the face, Craig took the pack of cigarettes and greedily ripped them open. Stuffing the somewhat soiled card back into his knapsack, the raven-haired boy ditched out on his class to go have a much-needed smoke.

* * *

Tweek had avoided Craig for the rest of the day… and frankly, Craig couldn't blame him. He felt so bad about what he'd done.

In fact, the mere thought of Tweek had invaded his brain all day – so much so, that Craig decided to do a test. When he'd skipped his second class, he'd gone to a small shop and bought a sappy Valentines Day card. Quickly filling it out, he brought it back to school, and sought out Clyde.

"Hey." He greeted, handing the card to Clyde. "Happy Valentines Day." He smiled.

Clyde took the card cautiously, looking it over with some suspicion – and a playful grin. "Um… thanks?" He said awkwardly. Opening it, Craig watched Clyde read the card, before he laughed and shoved Craig. "You're such a gaywad." He teased, tossing the card into the garbage.

Right there in front of Craig.

Craig furrowed his brow, watching as Clyde and Token joked about the card. They thought it was a joke – they thought it was ridiculous, and clearly, Clyde didn't think it was worth his time to keep. But they WERE dating. Even if Craig's card HAD been a joke, wouldn't it be 'relationship etiquette' to keep the card anyway?

He felt a dull throb in his chest; it was hurt. Jesus, so THIS must be how Tweek felt.

And Craig had been too stupid to notice.

"We're done." Craig found himself saying calmly.

Clyde and Token looked back to him with a puzzled expression. "What?" Clyde smiled.

"I don't want to be with you anymore." He answered dully.

Clyde's eyes narrowed, "Are you kidding? Tell me it's not because of that stupid card… Come on man, what's the big deal? Valentine's Day is just a made up holiday anyway." He asked annoyingly.

"It has nothing to do with that. We're just done." Craig answered simply.

He hadn't noticed it before, but now, it was all Craig could think about. There was someone _else_ he was meant to be with… and he mentally kicked himself for not figuring that out sooner. He knew Tweek would have never thrown out anything he'd given him... even if it WAS actually garbage.

* * *

Sitting at his computer, Tweek was anxiously trying to play some kind of video game. Of course, he wasn't doing too well… games were way too much pressure, and he ended up over-reacting at the simplest challenges.

But when his door opened, and someone slipped in, Tweek jumped. He turned, expecting to see his mom, but instead saw Craig – closing the door and locking it behind him. "_Ack_! C-Craig! Jesus, u-uh… what are you –_nngh_- doing here?" The twitchy blond asked, quickly closing the game, and standing up from his computer. "I-I thought Token was having –nngh- a Valentines' party?" He asked.

"Why aren't you there?" Craig asked simply.

Tweek hadn't really expected to have to answer, and twitchy frantically as he tried to come up with some excuse that didn't involve Craig breaking his heart that morning. "I-I, _ack_, don't feel well…" The blond shrugged.

It was a lame excuse. And by the way Craig was looking at him, Tweek could tell he wasn't buying it. "_Arg_! W-Why didn't you go?" Tweek asked, wanting to keep the conversation going. Standing with Craig in his room with nothing but silence was starting to make him more paranoid. Was Craig going to kill him?

"I couldn't." The raven-haired boy answered calmly; his gray eyes focused on Tweek… so much so, that he noticed the small blond began to blush. "I had to see if I still had a Valentine." He finished.

Those words made Tweek erupt in a fit of spasms and anxious noises – none of which were actual words. He was getting so worked up, and looked so confused, that Craig closed the distance between them, and took Tweek into his arms comfortingly.

"Tweek," Craig whispered. "I'm sorry."

The jagged-haired blond's trembling began to slowly subside as the warmth of Craig's arms radiated around him. "_Ack_!"

"I just… thought it was some kind of stupid card. Like, maybe you felt obligated to get me one, because we were best friends." He quietly began to explain. "I should have read it, instead of just tossing it out. That wasn't fair." Craig admitted. Cupping Tweek's face in his hands, Craig made the blond look up at him. "Will you still be my Valentine?" He asked huskily; his lips brushing against Tweek's as he spoke.

The blond could have melted there; was this actually happening. "_Agh_! W-What about Clyde?" He asked nervously; his eyes hazing over and his pulse racing, with the feeling of Craig so close to him.

Craig just smiled, and pressed his lips against the blond's in a deep, heated kiss. Tweek moaned, eagerly kissing Craig back as he twitched. Both were transported to another plane of dimension; the kiss was phenomenal… Craig couldn't believe how good it felt, or how great Tweek tasted; the fact that the kid couldn't stop internally shaking and twitching only amplified the sensation. It was like making out with a hot looking vibrator.

The mere thought of the dirty analogy made Craig groan as his tongue explored Tweek's mouth.

Finally parting from the kiss, the two boys breathed heavily, looking at one another. Craig had a small smile on his lips; his eyes truly 'looking' at his best friend. He was so beautiful and angelic, that again, Craig mentally cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. He'd wasted so much time.

"Can I give you your Valentine now?" Craig asked, a devilish smirk coming to his lips.

Tweek blushed, "_Nngh_!… I g-guess so," He answered timidly; like he was afraid Craig was still going to punk him or trick him. That paranoid mind of his never stopped turning.

The blond let out a small sound as he was pushed back – causing him to stumble onto his bed. Smiling, Craig crawled over Tweek and began to undo his jeans. The blond twitched and flinched with anticipation; his wide eyes running over Craig, and biting his lower lip. Lowering himself down, Craig knelt by the side of the bed, right between Tweek's legs, as he pulled the other boy's jeans down.

"_Ack_! J-Jesus!" Tweek cried out as he felt Craig's lips close around the bulge that had been pressing against his pants; It was now exposed… and Tweek's worst day, was quickly becoming his best.

XD


	3. Fly :: Staig

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD… like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings: **Multiple!

**Summary: **This is just a series of one-shots… I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, Espresso Con Panna, etc).

**Notes I: **There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II :** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics… I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE – I'd like your opinions as well… so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know J

**Notes III:** WOOT … all the usual, smut, fluff, romance, angst, hurt, friendship, etc.

* * *

**Pairing:** Stan/Craig

**Shot-Theme: **Fly – by – Nick Drake

While I know they aren't the most popular pair… for some ODD reason… I really like the idea of Stan and Craig haha. So nuts to you all :P It's happening. We're not even discussing it.

Things get heated xD You've been warned lol

* * *

Every time he happened to look over at Craig, the raven-haired boy was staring right back at him.

It was unsettling to say the least.

The two had never really been 'friends', but they'd known each other for a long time. Most of the time, their separate groups were rivals. As children, it had been rather serious – but now that they were in high school, it was more like a game. They could all chat and be civil to one another. Still, it was well known that Craig was an asshole, and more or less, proud of it.

So when Craig started staring at him – Stan began to get really annoyed by it. It seemed like every time he turned around, Craig would be there, looking at him with that damned vacant expression.

When they got on the bus after school, Stan sat in his usual seat, waiting for Kyle to get on and take the spot beside him. Unfortunately, Craig got there first, and plopped down next to Stan. He didn't look at him; the raven-haired, gray-eyed boy just kept his eyes focused ahead.

"What the hell are you doing?" Stan asked uncomfortably, looking at Craig.

But he didn't answer him. When Kyle came on the bus, he started to head back to where Stan was sitting – but stopped when he saw Craig sitting there.

"Craig, you're in my seat." Kyle said matter-of-factly.

Still, Craig said nothing; he just flipped Kyle off like he does to everyone.

Not wanting to get dragged into an argument, Kyle rolled his eyes and took the empty seat beside Kenny. Feeling himself growing more frustrated as the bus started up – Stan looked back toward Craig. But instead of looking ahead like he'd been doing, Craig was now looking right back at Stan. When their eyes met, Stan felt his face heat up a bit.

"Look, I don't know WHAT you're problem is with me, Craig, but I'm getting really sick of the staring game." He snapped bitterly.

Much to Stan's frustration, Craig STILL said nothing. Stan shifted awkwardly in his seat when he felt Craig's jean-clad leg shift and rest against his own. But the bus seats were small, and as much as he shifted and tried to 'bump' Craig's leg away from his own… the other teen simply kept resting his leg there. His ocean-blue eyes kept staring out the window, but there was still an angry blush that was settled on his cheeks. What the hell was Craig's problem? Even though could still feel the other teen's eyes on him, Stan just focused on the passing houses and snow that whizzed by his window.

When they finally reached their stop, most of them got off. Including Craig… which, was odd, because he normally didn't get off at the same stop as Kyle, Kenny and Stan. Hell, he didn't normally take the BUS even. The three childhood friends looked to the raven-haired teen oddly, but none of them said anything.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow," Stan said, nodding to Kyle and Kenny. They said their goodbyes back to him, and headed off down the same street together. Stan glanced at Craig, who was still standing there, looking at him.

Shaking his head – Stan began to walk home. Unable to stop himself from glancing back, he was _furious_ to see Craig was following him.

"Craig, what the hell!?" He snapped, stopping. When he stopped, Craig did as well. So, Stan started to walk – and again, was pissed to see Craig continued walking behind him. Turning around, he shoved Craig violently. "Craig, piss _off_!" He yelled.

This move, it seemed, finally gauged a reaction from Craig; and the raven-haired teen smirked knowingly. But still, he said nothing. Stan was so mad that he debated just starting a fight with the other teen in order to get him off his back. While Stan was a football quarterback for the high school team – he knew he and Craig were fairly equally matched in their physical build; Craig played for the hockey team, and was really good. Finding himself looking into those mysterious, untelling gray eyes… Stan huffed out a breath, before he turned around and continued walking.

Craig followed.

When they reached Stan's house, he was so exhausted from being completely confused and frustrated with Craig's behavior – that he didn't say anything when the other teen followed him inside.

His mother called out a greeting to him from the kitchen, which Stan half-heartedly responded to.

Taking off his snow-covered boots, Stan flickered his eyes to Craig to notice he was doing the same. Rolling his eyes, the football quarterback headed upstairs – followed by the hockey forward.

When they got into Stan's room, he closed the door behind him and tossed his coat and bag aside. Craig did the same, before he boldly plopped down on the edge of Stan's bed; sitting there lazily, propping himself back on his hands as his eyes started at the teen in front of him.

"Seriously Craig… _what_ the hell?" Stan asked with a frustrated sigh, as he stood looking down at the lax teen. "This is getting old. Three months of staring at me isn't worth your time. Whatever your beef is, just get it out." He snapped.

Craig didn't really seem to be moved by anything Stan had said; he simply shrugged. "I don't have a beef with you." He answered, speaking for the first time.

"Well you never paid any attention to me before – why the hell are you so intent on busting my balls with this stupid staring game!?" He asked angrily.

The raven-haired boy, again, showed no emotion on his face as he answered calmly. "Maybe you just never noticed." He said; referring to Stan's comment about not paying him any attention.

"Well then, why?! What is it!? Why the hell did you follow me home?" Stan asked, growing more frustrated by the second.

Finally, Craig smirked. "Maybe I'm getting tired of waiting for you to come around."

"Come around TO WHAT!?" Stan yelled heatedly, throwing his head back and gesturing with his arms in complete confusion. Talking to Craig was like talking to a conversational wizard; it was hard to know what he was talking about, or what he was after, because he was so damned vague about everything. Even his expression… he must be one of the hardest people to get to know, or even READ.

Stan looked back to Craig expectantly – waiting impatiently for an answer.

But what he got, was Craig swiftly standing up and grasping the front of Stan's shirt tightly in his fists. Alarmed, Stan shoved back, and the two had a bit of a struggled match, which ended with Craig shoving Stan back against his door roughly. He was kind of thrown back by how strong Craig ACTUALLY was… Stan figured if they ever got in a fight, he'd be able to beat him, simply because of the muscle he'd acquired from football.

Growling out in frustration, Stan tried to push Craig away from him – but the other teen wouldn't budge; he was just staring at Stan angrily through his jet black hair; his gray eyes piercing fiercely into Stan's ocean blue ones.

Stan's concentration in getting Craig away from him seemed futile, as he felt Craig's grip on the front of his shirt intensify. Then of course… there was the feeling of Craig's leg slipping between his own that made Stan's breath catch in his throat. Stan noticed how close they really where; their toned, tall bodies pressing against one another.

He couldn't help but make a small awkward noise as he felt Craig's lips hungrily claim his own in a rough, dominant kiss. Stan was too shocked to move at first, and stood there tensely, trapped between the door and Craig. As soon as he felt Craig's tongue prodding against his lips, Stan's mind kicked into gear, and he shoved the other teen; managing to propel himself off the wall a bit.

But that was short lived. Craig immediately tensed, gripping Stan's shirt tighter – and slammed him back against his door _again_… once more claiming his lips in another, deeper kiss. He felt Craig's jean-clad hips swivel against his own, and a small, involuntary sound escaped from the back of Stan's throat. As this sound threatened to escape, Craig swallowed and deepened the kiss – finally pushing his tongue past Stan's lips and into the warm cavern of his mouth. Again, Stan moaned.

Their grip on one another was still very rough and tense – like they were still about to fight. At least, that's how Stan felt. But oddly enough, they weren't fighting… well, not in the way that Stan had been expecting them to fight.

Occasionally, Stan still tried to shove Craig away from him – but Craig's position was too strong, and each time he did, the raven-haired boy would rub his knee between the apex of Stan's legs… causing him, once more, to moan involuntarily at the friction of their hips absently thrusting against one another.

At one point – Stan was able to break his mind out of the hazy lust of being kissed and ravaged so passionately, and got a firm grip on Craig before he pushed him back… successfully flipping their positions, so now Craig was pushed against his door, and he was in front of him.

Craig seemed a bit angry at his lack of concentration, and the fact that Stan had managed to get the upper hand. He expected Stan to back away, and tell him to fuck off. But instead, he felt Stan crushing him back against the door – as his lips slammed back onto Craig's. This time, it was Craig's turn to moan… his hands released the front of Stan's shirt, and instead, slid around the other teen's waist, drawing him closer.

He'd never felt anything like this; not with Wendy, not with anyone. Stan's head was spinning as his body rubbed anxiously against Craig's. He was making out with Craig…

…He was making OUT with… _Craig_.

As this sudden realization hit him – Stan suddenly shot back, finally breaking loose from Craig's grip and stumbling back further into the center of his room. He subconsciously made sure to avoid being backed up onto his bed, since with the way things were going, he wouldn't be surprised if Craig tried to tackle him onto it.

Craig didn't move at first; he stood resting back against the door – his chest rising and falling deeply, as his lustfully dark eyes stared at Stan.

"Come here…" Craig ordered huskily; he didn't ask, he was telling Stan to return to him.

The mere tone of his voice made Stan suppress a shiver that threatened to run down his spine. It freaked Stan out, to say the least. "Get out, Craig." Stan snapped.

The two stood there for a few moments, simply staring at one another; nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing filling the otherwise silent room.

For the first time, Stan saw a hint of something in Craig's eyes; it was a mixture of regret, anger, embarrassment, and lust. But that look soon disappeared, and was replaced by a steely one. Craig grabbed his coat and bag, tossing both on loosely – before he stormed out of Stan's room.

He heard the other teen stomp down the stairs, before there was a brief pause (which he could only assume was Craig slipping on his boots) – and finally, the sound of his front door closing.

Letting out a long breath he hadn't known he was holding, Stan collapsed onto his bed; lying there, simply breathing in and out. What the fuck had just happened? He'd expected Craig was just trying to be an asshole… and what he THOUGHT was going to be a fight, turned into the best make out session he'd ever had.

But it was with _Craig_. THAT was the only problem. Stan had never thought he was gay, but fuck if that rough little bit of passion didn't make him hard. He groaned, noticing he was STILL hard; the bulge in his boxers pressing tightly against the confines of his jeans.

Something tightened in Stan's chest – and it was only then that he realized what it was...

Regret.

He felt bad for pulling back, and he felt bad for telling Craig to get out. But the whole thing had thrown him for a loop… he was so confused. It was well known around the high school that Craig was gay; he'd dated Tweek, Clyde, and even Kenny for a brief period of time. And those were three people Stan _hadn't_ expected to suddenly be gay.

Which is why he was so freaked out; what if Craig was just trying to make his way through his friends? What if he was trying to experiment to see if anyone else was gay? What if he just wanted to fuck people, in order to get his own fix?

It was possible, wasn't it? Hell, it was more than possible… but the more he thought about such a manipulative, selfish plan – it sounded like something Cartman would do. Not Craig.

Unfortunately, that didn't make it any LESS confusing…

* * *

The next day at school, Stan was a little disheartened (surprisingly) to find that Craig was ignoring him.

He wasn't staring… hell, he barely even acknowledged him, even when they were all talking in the same large group, or in a class they happened to have together.

And oddly enough… it bothered Stan. It REALLY bothered Stan; more than it should of, since _he_ was the one who'd ended their make out session.

During their PE class, Stan decided to confront Craig about it. Everyone was running laps around the school's huge gymnasium; he hung behind the raven-haired boy as he ran, debating what exactly he was going to say. He and Craig finished their laps first (which wasn't a surprise to anyone else). Taking deep breaths, Stan tried to regulate his breathing again as he looked over to Craig… who still wasn't looking at him, and instead, picked up his water bottle and took a healthy swig.

Stan's eyes involuntarily ran over Craig's toned body; they were about the same height, and even kind of looked the same – at least, with their dark, somewhat shaggy black hair. Only, Craig's eyes were an odd, distinct gray color, his body was a bit leaner than Stan's, and his features were sharper.

But he found himself snapped out of his thoughts when he realized that Craig was finally staring back at him; a small smirk on his lips.

"So you stare at me for weeks, follow me home, and _now_ ... you're ignoring me?" Stan asked bitterly.

The small smirk didn't fall from Craig's lips; like he was happy that Stan was bothered by it. "I thought you didn't want me to stare at you." He shrugged casually, tossing his water bottle down.

Stan wanted to answer, but he couldn't. It was true; he'd told Craig to stop staring at him. But that had been BEFORE their make out session.

"Look, if this is just some game, you should just drop it." Stan blurted out harshly. "I have no problem with you Craig, but I know you've already dated Tweek, Clyde AND Kenny." He listed. "I'm not about to be the next notch on your bedpost."

For some reason, that comment made Craig's smile drop – and he went back to being his stoic self. There was an awkward silence between them, before Craig finally spoke. "Is that what you think?" He asked solemnly.

"Well…" Stan paused, shaking his head in confusion. "What the hell ELSE would it be? I'm… I'm not even…" He stumbled. He wasn't even, what? Gay? Well, Stan didn't THINK he was, but so far, all he'd done is think about making out with Craig and how unbelievably hot it had been.

There was another bout of silence that passed between the two. "If you want me to stay away from you… then just say it." Craig told him.

Stan's blue eyes flashed up toward Craig's angrily – and he opened his mouth to speak, but again, nothing came out. Instead, Stan grabbed his knapsack and slung it over his shoulder, storming out of the gym.

"I'll take that as a 'no'…" He heard Craig call to him. By the tone of his voice, Stan could tell Craig was smiling at his victory.

* * *

During the second half of the day, Craig had resumed staring at him. While it still made Stan uncomfortable, deep down, he was somewhat relieved. Did he actually like this attention?

No… no, he convinced himself it was just because 'staring' had led to their make out session – and that was it.

Ducking into the washroom when the bell for their last class rung, Stan splashed some water onto his face before drying it off. He just had to get a grip. There was still the possibility that Craig would just use him and the move onto another conquest. He hadn't exactly 'denied' Stan's accusation that he would just be another notch on his bedpost. The bathroom was thankfully empty – since fourth period was starting. Figuring it wouldn't bode too well if he came in late, Stan turned with the intention of heading for the door.

But instead, he was met with Craig.

Stan didn't even have time to react, before Craig was pushing him into one of the bathroom stalls – locking it behind them. Stan was furious, but unfortunately, the stall was so small that it didn't give either one of them a lot of room – and Craig had situated himself between Stan and the door.

He growled as he felt Craig push him against the wall of the stall, pinning him there roughly.

"You want to know _why_ I dated Tweek, Clyde and Kenny," Craig began in that damned, deep monotone voice of his. While his voice was calm, his actions certainly weren't – as he wrestled with Stan's hands, and eventually, began to undo Stan's jeans (much to the other teen's panic). But Stan was too distracted by what Craig was saying, to focus on stopping what he was doing. "It was because of _you_. I couldn't get YOU out of my head… which is fucking ridiculous, because we aren't even good friends." Craig began to explain, his hands quickly fumbling with Stan's jeans.

Stan bit his lip angrily to stop from groaning, each time Craig's knuckles or hands brushed past the quick-forming bulge in his jeans. "So I fucked Tweek… I fucked Clyde, and I fucked Kenny, hoping it was just teenage hormones." He breathed out huskily. Finally pushing Stan's jeans and boxers down a bit, Craig slid his hand beneath them, and began to stroke Stan's hardening length. This time, a moan slipped loudly out of the back of Stan's throat. "But it didn't work. I still couldn't stop fantasizing about you." Craig admitted in a low tone.

As he began to tease Stan, he felt his knees getting weaker – so he had no choice but to grip onto Craig's shoulders tightly, almost intent on pushing him off… but instead, he just ended up clutching to Craig desperately as the raven-haired boy continued to stroke him off.

Stan blinked and tried to focus again when he felt Craig move away from him. Opening his hazy eyes, Stan looked down to see Craig kneeling in front of him. "W-What the fuck ar—AH!" He cried out, moaning as he felt Craig's lips take him into his mouth. Groaning desperately, Stan's knees crumpled again, and he had to use every ounce of trembling strength he had left to stop himself from collapsing.

As Craig continued to administer his erection with licks and strokes, Stan's hands slid forward into Craig's dark hair – grasping at the dark mop intensely, spurring Craig on. His movements became more frantic, and Stan lulled his head back as his hips thrust forward on their own accord. He couldn't help it… Jesus, this felt SO good. It didn't take long for Stan to climax, and as he did – he tried to shove Craig's head away from his dick; he didn't want to explode on the guy. But as he weakly tried to push Craig away… Craig didn't budge, and instead, stayed there and sucked Stan dry.

Shaking from complete ecstasy, Stan groaned as Craig pulled himself up from his knees, and stood to face Stan. Before he could even focus, he felt the raven-haired boys lips press against his own in a heated kiss. Instead of resisting, Stan just sunk into the kiss this time.

But it was short lived… before Craig pulled back, threading a hand into Stan's dark hair. "We're not done yet, Marsh," He purred darkly. "You can't leave me hot and bothered. This is a two way street." He growled.

Stan felt Craig shoving him down onto his knees. Looking up in lustful confusion, he watched as the other boy undid his pants quickly, and pushed them down to reveal his own pulsing erection. Without giving Stan a choice, Craig grabbed the back of his head, and shoved his dick into his mouth. Stan moaned, awkwardly trying to adjust to this new feeling… and who could blame him? He'd _never_ sucked anyone's dick before! His hands instinctively grasped onto Craig's hips tightly, trying to roll his tongue around Craig's erection, and cautiously figure out what he was supposed to do.

Apparently… his tentative, awkward moves did the trick - because almost immediately after he started licking and stroking Craig's dick – he heard the raven-haired boy moan anxiously; his own knees buckling like Stan's had. One of Craig's hands stayed threaded in Stan's hair – while the other gripped the wall of the stall, like he was trying to hold himself up.

Feeling more confident, Stan's moves became bolder – which only made Craig all the more vulnerable and desperate, as he began to thrust himself eagerly into Stan's mouth. The impact of Craig's hips crashing into his face was disorienting at first, but Stan ignored it, and kept going – until Craig came to his own climax. While he'd never done it before, Stan swallowed what Craig had, not wanting to be 'rude'. After all, Craig had done it for him.

Pulling back, Stan sat back on the bathroom floor – breathing heavily as he rested his back on the wall of the stall. He couldn't bring himself to look up at Craig, who was doing up his pants – and breathing just as hard as he was. He felt embarrassed… like; maybe he _shouldn't_ have gone along with this. He almost expected Craig to just walk out of the stall, and leave him.

But Craig's next move surprised him.

He didn't leave – and he didn't say anything. Instead, Craig lowered himself to the bathroom floor with Stan, and straddled Stan's hips with his legs; perching himself into his lap. He felt Craig's warm hands cup either side of his face, and force him to look up at him.

Instead of seeing a cocky smirk, or some kind of damned, vague expression… Stan noticed that Craig's cheeks were flush, and his eyes were still a hazy mix of lust and appreciation. Leaning in, he closed his eyes slowly as Craig kissed him. It wasn't a heated, passionate, rough kiss like the others they had shared – but instead, it was gentle and deep. Almost… meaningful? Stan wrapped his arms around Craig's waist (voluntarily, this time) – and pulled the raven-hared boy closer as they continued their kiss.

When they pulled back from one another, Stan couldn't bring himself to open his eyes – even when he felt Craig's nose nestling his own. "Come over tonight." Craig told him quietly.

"I-I…" Stan stammered, finally opening his blurry eyes. Craig was right in front of him, staring at him intensely (though obviously a bit fuzzy himself). "I… don't know if…"

But Craig interrupted him. "It's Friday. There's no school tomorrow. My parents aren't home." He told him; like Craig knew the answer to any excuse Stan might come up with. "Come over." He repeated, his tongue lightly lapping at Stan's lower lip and jaw line.

Stan rested his head back against the wall again, stifling a moan as Craig kissed and licked him.

"Yes…" The single word finally left Stan's lips without him actually realizing it.

Opening his eyes, he saw Craig smiling at him. It wasn't a cocky smile, or a lustful one – it was just a smile; it was genuine.

Nodding, Craig stood and offered Stan a hand, helping him stand back up as well. Leaving the stall, and the bathroom… they parted ways in the hallway without another look – both heading off (late) to their last class.

…Not that either one would be able to concentrate.

* * *

Stan took the bus home after school like he always did; this time, Craig didn't follow him.

As soon as he got home, Stan showered quickly – changed his clothes – and headed back over to Craig's house. He debated waiting for a few hours… just to play it cool, and not seem too eager. Then again, what was he EAGER about? Did this make him gay? Or were they just fuck-buddies? He _still_ didn't really know what to clarify whatever 'this' was with Craig.

Deciding to take the car rather than walk, Stan drove down a few blocks toward Craig's house. He'd only been there once or twice… and now, he was hoping he could remember exactly which one it was. Finally settling on a house that looked more familiar, Stan parked the car and got out – heading to the front door. He knocked three times, and within a minute, Craig was opening the door.

They looked at each other briefly for a few seconds, before a small smile formed on Craig's lips, and he gestured for Stan to come inside from the cold. Stan did so, and took his boots off and coat as he closed the door behind him.

"So, where are your parents?" Stan asked, looking around at Craig's house. He'd only ever been there when Craig was having a party… so it was interesting to see the place without lots of people and empty beer cans, shoes and coats littering the floor.

He shrugged, heading into the living room. "They took my sister to some kind of dance competition in Denver. They won't be back until Monday." He mumbled.

Stan nodded silently at the answer, and followed Craig into the living room. The raven-haired boy plopped himself down on the large couch, and started watching television again. Stan looked to see he was watching his favorite show – and it brought a small smirk to his lips. "You STILL watch Red Racer?" Stan asked, quirking a brow.

"It's the only thing good on at this time anyway." Craig said, tossing a quick glance to Stan, before he looked back to the television. There was only a moment of silence between them, before Craig spoke again, "Well? Are you going to sit down, or stand there looking uncomfortable some more?" He asked.

He huffed out a breath, "I AM uncomfortable, actually…" Stan mumbled, shifting on his feet.

Looking back to Craig, he saw those familiar gray eyes staring into his ocean blue ones calmly. Stan felt a small blush rise in his cheeks; how the hell did such a 'boring' stare make him feel so exposed? Lifting a hand, Craig extended it toward Stan.

Without a thought, Stan stepped forward and took his head – allowing himself to be pulled down onto the couch; Craig pulled him closer, so that Stan was spooned up against him where he sat. Stan blushed awkwardly for a moment, before he settled by resting his head on Craig's shoulder. He felt the other boy's long arm drape around his shoulders, holding him close as his eyes stayed focused on Red Racer.

Realizing that, for the moment, Craig seemed more interested in Red Racer… Stan began to let himself relax. His body eased up, and he decided to enjoy simply being held up against Craig. It was an oddly comforting gesture, and one Stan hadn't been expecting. He'd run over this scenario in his mind a hundred times during class – and each one resulted in Craig dragging him upstairs and fucking him roughly.

But this was different. That hadn't happened, and instead, they were just hanging out on the couch. Once Red Racer was over, Stan expected Craig to drag him upstairs to the bedroom.

Yet again, much to his surprise, Craig just stayed in their same position. His arm still rested around Stan's shoulder, while his hand lazily stroked and played with Stan's hair. It was a great feeling, and occasionally, Stan would flutter his eyes closed as he enjoyed it. But when he noticed Craig flipping the channels in search of something else to watch, Stan furrowed his brow.

"…Aren't you going to take me upstairs?" Stan found himself blurting out in confusion.

He regretted it as Craig stopped flipping through channels – and a silence fell between them. Biting his lower lip, Stan was relieved to hear Craig start to speak (since they weren't facing one another, they were facing the television). "Is that what you want?" Craig asked.

"I dunno," Stan mumbled embarrassingly. "I thought… that's what YOU'd want…" He answered meekly.

To his surprise, he felt Craig's stomach bob up and down as he chuckled quietly. "I already blew you in the bathroom, Marsh… and school just got out. I'm a bit tired." He admitted lazily, going back to flipping the channels. "Your hormones will have to wait."

"MY hormones?" Stan repeated, a blush still on his cheeks. He sat up, and looked to Craig a bit defensively; though embarrassment still flickered in his eyes. "You're the one who pushed me against the door in my room, and started the whole… duel-blow job in the bathroom." He said defensively.

Craig looked away from the television and over to Stan calmly; a bare hint of a smile on his lips. "Despite how I might act… I have more control than you realize. Just because I'm gay, doesn't mean I'm 'all-about-the-cock' twenty-four seven." He shrugged. "The stuff I did earlier was to just… well… see if maybe you felt the same way." Craig admitted.

Stan looked down, suddenly feeling more embarrassed and bad than he had before. He'd completely misjudged Craig. He was all ready to be ravaged; he was ready for Craig to fuck him senseless, and then never talk to him again. But here Craig was, perfectly content to just chill out on the couch together.

"Look, if all you're interested in is 'experimenting'…" Craig began, looking back to the television. "…Then maybe you should go." He shrugged. There was a hint of sad resentment in Craig's voice – like he'd expected more from Stan. Like he wanted something more than a fuck-buddy.

And frankly, Stan expected more from himself too. When did he become so paranoid and mistrusting?

Stan sighed, sitting back on the couch – but this time, he wasn't up against Craig; no, he kept a slight distance. "I'm… sorry." Stan said awkwardly. He kept his eyes down as he continued to speak, "I'm just… this whole 'gay' thing is new to me. Shit, I mean, _I_ didn't even _know_ I WAS until… you started…" He began, but once again, Stan wasn't able to finish his sentence. "I-I still don't even know if I am, but… when I'm with you… I just… I dunno…" He rambled. Stan knew he wasn't making any sense.

Half of him expected Craig to tell him to leave. Seriously, what kind of person was Stan being right now? He'd judged Craig fairly quickly and harshly, and had never felt so confused.

But the feeling of Craig's hands grasping his arm stopped him from making any sort of move. Looking back to the raven-haired boy, Stan moved as he was pulled forward, and Craig shifted his position so that he was lying back on the couch – pulling Stan up between his legs. Wrapping his arms around Stan, he felt himself pressed down against Craig's chest. Stan couldn't help but let out a relieved sigh; actually reveling in the feeling of being in Craig's arms… he could hear his heartbeat through his blue hoodie, as he lay with his ear pressed against Craig's chest.

While one arm stayed around him, Craig's other hand began to coaxingly run and stroke Stan's hair again.

"I know… it's... confusing." Craig finally began to speak calmly; his monotone voice not grating on Stan's nerves anymore, but rather, it comforted him.

He felt Craig's chin rest on the top of his head; their eyes both focused on the television. "But maybe… you can trust me?" He asked; it wasn't a sarcastic question, or one that was accusing Stan – but it had a hopeful tone to it. Like, Craig _wanted_ Stan to trust him for the sake of calming both their nerves.

Stan stared at the television, deep in thought and not really watching. "I trust you." He answered finally.

Though he couldn't see him, he felt Craig release a breath… and it felt like he was smiling. Stan closed his eyes as he felt Craig's arms and hands tighten around Stan, while his lips and nose buried themselves into the top of his soft black hair. Stan found himself nestling closer into Craig's chest, really reveling in the feeling of being between Craig's legs… feeling so safe, and wrapped in protection.

"I think I found my happy place…" Stan mumbled with a smirk.

He felt Craig smile; his nose and lips still pressed into his hair. "Don't be such a fag."


	4. Do You Remember? :: Style

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD… like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings: **Multiple!

**Summary: **This is just a series of one-shots… I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, Espresso Con Panna, etc).

**Notes I: **There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II :** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics… I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE – I'd like your opinions as well… so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know J

**Notes III:** WOOT … all the usual, smut, fluff, romance, angst, hurt, friendship, etc.

* * *

**Pairing:** Kyle/Stan

**Shot-Theme: **Delicate – by – Damien Rice

Bloop, another Style one-shot. They're so easy to write xD A trip down memory lane for two super best friends as they skip their last class of the day to enjoy an unseasonably warm day.

This one-shot is inspired by the picture that's on my profile (it can be seen in the link labeled: DO IT WITH SOME STYLE

* * *

"Do you remember the day we met?" Kyle asked Stan idly.

They had decided to skip their last fourth period class of the day, in lieu of some unseasonable sunshine and warmth. South Park was never really SUPER warm, so when it happened – the high school saw a drop in it's class members, because it's students always ended up skipping.

The two boys had decided to go to Stark's Pond, and were currently lying on the grass, side by side. Kyle had his hands behind his head as he lay there – while Stan had his hands resting on his stomach; both were staring at the sky.

Stan smiled at the question, "Of course."

"Do you REALLY?" Kyle asked with a small laugh, "Or are you just ending your answer there, in the hopes that I won't make you retell it?" The redhead smirked.

The raven-haired boy grinned. "Contrary to what effect you _might_ think the combination of alcohol and football have on my memory… I DO remember."

"Tell me." Kyle said, turning onto his stomach and resting his head on his forearms. His head was on its side, and he couldn't help but smile as he looked to his best friend beside him.

Stan smirked, shaking his head slightly, before he began to tell him:

"We were like… two," He began. "I remember your dad coming over to see my dad; they were always really good friends. I'm sure they're not surprised their sons ended up becoming so close," Stan mused, sidetracking a bit, before going back to the story. "Anyway, I remember I was in my room – and my dad called me down, and introduced us. I came face to face with this small little redheaded. You wouldn't stop hiding and blushing behind your dad's legs." Stan laughed.

Kyle blushed a bit and groaned, "I was a timid kid! Come on, if you had to grow up with MY mom, you'd be timid too." He said awkwardly.

"You don't need to explain." Stan shrugged. "Thinking back to it now… it's pretty adorable."

The redhead rolled his eyes, "Oh gee, thanks." He said sarcastically. But even though Stan didn't look over at Kyle then, he could tell his best friend was probably blushing.

"I remember my dad telling me to take you up to my room and show you my toys. It took a lot of coaxing to finally get you upstairs. But once you saw my toys, you seemed to forget about being so nervous." Stan smiled, recalling every detail of the scene in his mind as he told it. "You were immediately drawn to some G.I Joe action figure that I had, because he had red hair. But I remember that he was my favorite, so I took him away from you… and you started to cry…" Stan said. There was a brief silence that passed between them; frankly, thinking about small little two-year old Kyle crying made Stan's heart wrench. "Do you remember what happened?" He asked, turning the story over to Kyle to see what his best friend remembered.

The other teen's eyes didn't waver from their focus on Stan; as his head still rested on his forearms as he lay on his stomach. "I remember crying… and I remember you giving me back the G.I Joe, and telling me not to cry. You tried to wipe away my tears, but I think you just ended up clumsily poking me in the eye a few times." Kyle smiled.

"Well, I had the dexterity and poise of a TWO year old." Stan mumbled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Besides, it's the thought that counts."

Kyle grinned, "You're right. I remember laughing a lot after that… but I don't remember about what. My dad came upstairs to get me, and I don't think I wanted to leave."

"Yeah… that turned out to be a pretty fun day." Stan mused. "My dad asked me if I'd want to play with you again when you both left, and I said yes... I think I said something about wanting you to be my brother. But I can't really remember." It wouldn't surprise Stan, really, since he only had Shelly as an older sister, and she'd always been rather rotten to him. Thank god she'd moved out a while ago.

The redhead nodded to himself, "That was the beginning."

"Go figure." Stan smirked. "It's sixteen years later… you STILL don't want to go home when we hang out, and I STILL want you to be my brother." He grinned with a small laugh.

Stan's view of the sky was obstructed, when he saw the face of his best friend appear in front of him. Kyle had gotten up, and placed his arms on either side of Stan's torso; now hovering over him. The raven-haired boy couldn't help but broaden his grin at the sight of the redhead. "Stan, if I was ACTUALLY your brother, what we do would be classified as 'incest'…" He said, rolling his eyes.

"Ugh… true story." Stan winced, making an awkward face. Kyle laughed at him, and leaned his head down, gently nestling his nose against Stan's. The dark-haired boy sighed contently - his arms sliding up and rubbing Kyle's arms as they bordered his torso. "Well, then I AM glad that you're not my brother. Besides, growing up with you gave me the chance to get to know Ike. He's kind of like my brother." Stan shrugged.

Kyle nodded, "Actually, he is. He looks up to you a lot. You're a cooler 'older brother' figure than I am." He scoffed.

"I dunno," Stan shrugged – tugging Kyle's head down, so their lips met in a brief kiss. "I think you're pretty cool." He purred.

The redhead shook his head, looking to Stan with a bemused gaze. "That's only because I give you _awesome_ blow-jobs."

"Yeah. That's NOT a valid reason?" Stan asked rhetorically – quirking his brows suggestively. "Great blow-job skills definitely earn you some cool points in MY books." There was a brief pause between them, before Stan cleared his throat. "Now's the time where you say, 'Oh Stan – you give great blow-jobs too – I have the best boyfriend in the world'… or something." He nodded.

Kyle laughed, "But you don't." He admitted with a shrug.

"What?!" Stan exclaimed; his eyes widening in shock. "You're joking. I give GREAT head!" He whined.

The redhead shrugged, rolling back away from Stan and onto his back casually. "Meh. I've had better." He said.

It only took another second for Stan to roll over on top of Kyle; their positions now reversed as Stan propped himself up over his best friend.

"Who?" He asked jealously, his brow furrowing.

Kyle just laughed. "No one, I'm just kidding." He soothed. "It's not a big deal, Stan. You're good at lots of other stuff. So what if blow-jobs aren't your thing?" Kyle shrugged. "I still love you."

"No. That is… bullshit." Stan pouted. Sliding his hands down to Kyle's jeans, Stan began to undo them. "I'm going to settle this right here and now." He grinned playfully.

There was a flash of eager lust that appeared in Kyle's green orbs as he lay there. Stan rubbed the bulge already forming beneath his boyfriend's boxers – and heard a satisfying moan escape Kyle's lips as he bit his lower lip, and closed his up Kyle's shirt a bit, Stan placed some slow and tantalizing kisses on his toned, lean stomach as he made his way down. But just as his fingers were trailing beneath the hem of the redhead's boxers… he stopped.

Kyle opened his eyes and looked to Stan eagerly. But his heart sunk as he saw Stan just smirking back at him, shaking his head. "I _almost_ fell for it. AGAIN." He said teasingly. "Fuck you and your reverse-psychology."

"Damn." Kyle smiled, resting back on the ground with a defeated sigh.

Normally his seamless reverse-psychology worked on Stan.

But who was he kidding? Stan gave _amazing_ blow-jobs… unfortunately this time, Stan had seen through Kyle's little ruse.

He couldn't help but smile as he felt Stan crawl back up the length of his body.

"But… maybe I'll _still_ remind you how great I am when we get home." He smirked, placing a deep kiss on Kyle's lips. He couldn't help but moan into the kiss, and smile at his own genius. Even though Stan KNEW Kyle had been trying to trick him, he still had a mind to prove Kyle wrong.

The redhead knew Stan all too well; he knew he could NEVER resist the chance to show off how great he was at something… be it football, or school, or drinking… or in this case, giving head.

_Reverse-Psychology_… never fails, Kyle thought to himself.

xD


	5. Best Birthday Ever : Bunny

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD… like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings: **Multiple!

**Summary: **This is just a series of one-shots… I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, Espresso Con Panna, etc).

**Notes I: **There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II :** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics… I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE – I'd like your opinions as well… so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know J

**Notes III:** WOOT … all the usual, smut, fluff, romance, angst, hurt, friendship, etc.

* * *

**Pairing:** Butters/Kenny

**Shot-Theme: **Little Person – by - Deanna Story & Jon Brion

Bunny is so cute, for real. lol You know I need to include their loveliness. The song is a simple, classy one, and makes me immediately think of Butters and Kenny haha

* * *

_Somewhere maybe someday_

_Maybe somewhere far away_

_I'll find a second little person_

_Who will look at me, and say…  
_

When his alarm went off in the morning, Butters immediately hopped out of bed. It was his birthday, and he was hoping it would be a good day. The blond teen had a quick shower, wanting to look his very best before school today. Granted, in the past, Butters' birthdays had never been the greatest; he almost always ended up getting grounded for something he didn't do… or Eric Cartman would swindle him out of some gifts, or plan a fake surprise birthday party for him. But this year, the small blond was sure it would be different.

Because he had a boyfriend… who he was sure loved Butters almost as much as Butters loved him.

Dressing in his room, he tossed on his familiar sea-form green hoodie, which now had several sewn patches on it; both small colored flags, and occasionally a hello kitty patch somewhere, or a smiley face. He wasn't ashamed of being gay, and thankfully, most kids in school didn't seem to mind – or maybe they just weren't surprised. Tossing on his favorite pair of skinny jeans and pink converse sneakers, Butters grabbed his bag and headed downstairs and out the door.

As he walked to school, the blond became a bit anxious. What if everyone forgot it was his birthday? What if he was subject to go through the same humiliations he was when he was younger? Maybe his friends would think those pranks were still funny.

But he tried to convince himself he was wrong. They were all teenagers now, and almost done high school.

Those fears subsided once Butters got into the school and saw his locker. It was brightly and festively decorated with streamers, and even a few small balloons. There was a piece of construction paper taped there saying 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY!' – and was decorated with markers and various stickers.

"O-Oh!" Butters exclaimed gleefully as he saw it.

Unable to keep the smile from his lips, Butters opened his locker – and was once more shocked to see a small, blue frosted cupcake there with a candle on it. Smiling again, Butters forced himself to leave the cupcake there until lunchtime. "Don't wanna get a tummy ache on such a... a great day!" He mumbled cheerfully to himself as he began to get some of his books.

"Hey Butters!" A voice called to him.

Turning, he was happy to see Stan and Kyle approaching (the two were holding hands, which wasn't out of the ordinary – they'd been going out for a while) – and Cartman was sulking along behind them. "H-Hey fellas!"

"Happy birthday!" Kyle greeted, giving Butters a rather big hug. The blond smiled and squeezed the redhead back.

As they pulled apart, Butters felt himself pulled into Stan's arms, and lifted. "Happy birthday, Butters!" He laughed as well. Butters squealed in giddy delight as he hung in the air, wrapped in Stan's arms. He had always thought Stan and Kyle were adorable, though it was clear the two only had eyes for one another.

Finally putting him down, Butters looked to them both; his light blue eyes shinning with happiness. "T-This is already the best day ever!" He smiled, bumping his fists together. Glancing behind them, he spotted Cartman. "H-Hey Eric." He greeted with a bashful smile.

"Yeah, hey." The bigger kid mumbled. Stan, who gave him a warning look, nudged him in the side. "Um… happy birthday." Cartman reluctantly said with a nod and a forced smile.

Butters smiled back to him, "W-Why thanks, Eric!" He said. Grumbling, Cartman left their company then, and headed off down the hall. "W-Well gee, what's wrong with Eric?" He asked curiously.

"Don't mind him. He's just pissed because we all made him promise that he wouldn't harass you today." Kyle smirked, rolling his eyes.

Stan smiled, leaning against a set of lockers casually. "Yeah. Kenny wanted to make sure you had a good day." He finished.

"O-Oh!" Butters said, his smile brightening even more with the mention of his boyfriend's name. "S-Say, where is Kenny?" He asked eagerly, looking around.

Kyle and Stan both looked down, "Oh, actually, he's sick today." Kyle answered sadly. "But he sends his best, and said that he'll try and call you later." The redhead said with a hopeful nod.

"A-Aw… a-alrighty then." Butters said, his smile almost falling completely off his face. But he tried to be brave and keep it on there. All he'd _really_ wanted was to spend this already amazing day with his boyfriend. But apparently, God had other plans in mind.

Heading to class with Kyle and Stan, Butters found that his day just kept getting better and better (despite the absence of Kenny). After their first few classes, they all headed to the cafeteria, where Tweek and Craig (another couple Butters had come to adore; because like him and Kenny, people often saw them as a mismatch) bought him lunch – while Token and Clyde surprised him with a small birthday cake. Their small group of friends actually had a great time, eating cake and taking pictures.

Pictures were something Butters LOVED. He only had a few in his room, but after today, he'd have a _lot_ more with all his friends. They really did CARE, even if they ripped on him occasionally and teased him. Of course, that teasing _had_ subsided a great deal once he and Kenny became an item… and the blond was almost certain that Kenny had something to do with it.

Though the thought of his absent boyfriend (again) made Butters' heart sink a little.

"What's wrong Butters?" Craig asked lazily, sitting beside Tweek at their cafeteria table; his hand casually stroking Tweek's thigh.

Butters looked up and blushed, "O-Oh, nuthin' Craig. T-This has been such a _great_ day so far… I-I just wish Kenny was here, is all…" He admitted sheepishly.

All the boys seemed to exchange a quick look – and Butters couldn't help but notice.

He was about to ask them about it, when Tweek had a sudden outburst.

"O-Oh Jesus! This is _way_ too much pressure man! _Ack_! I can't keep my mouth shut! I can't TAKE it anymore!" The spazzy blond exclaimed desperately. The boys' eyes widened with slight anxiety – while Butters was the only one who seemed genuinely interested in what Tweek was talking about.

Keep his mouth shut? … About what?

Tweek looked back toward Butters frantically, and looked like he was about to spill the beans on whatever he was keeping secret…

But just as he opened his mouth – Craig grabbed Tweek and slammed his mouth against his own. Tweek's muffled (and surprised) protest soon subsided… he even stopped twitching, as Craig deepened the kiss and held the blond up to him.

The boys at the table seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "W-Woah…" Butters mumbled, his brows rose in slight surprise. It was always strange to see Craig suddenly act so passionately around Tweek; the attractive, raven-haired boy was normally always so composed and quiet… the complete _opposite_ of Tweek Tweak.

Releasing Tweek – the twitchy blond seemed to stunned and embarrassed to say anything, and instead, went back to flinching… _and_ blushing as he slid his hand into Craig's in silent apology.

He knew he'd almost ruined the surprise.

"W-Well that was quite the kiss." Butters smiled, giving an awkward laugh.

He shuddered as Craig turned his gray eyes up toward him with a smirk. "Want another demonstration?" He purred.

"_Agh_!" Tweek flinched; his blush only increasing as he kept his eyes down.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Craig, enough."

When lunch was over, Butters went to his two last classes of the day –but still couldn't get his mind off Kenny. This had been the perfect day so far… and yet, his boyfriend wasn't here to enjoy it with him. After stewing over it for his two last periods of the day, Butters felt even more discouraged when school ended.

Stan and Kyle gave him a ride home, and once more, wished him a happy birthday. "Hey, don't forget… we're having that playstation marathon at Craig's tonight." Kyle reminded him.

"O-Oh yeah! Sure fellas!" He said, nodding with a smile. "I'll see you there!" He finished, before his disappeared into his house.

Normally, Butters would greet his parents, but they were gone for the weekend. Go figure; they must be the only parents in South Park who wouldn't consider the fact that their little 'trip' would interfere with their son's birthday. But Butters didn't really mind… it just meant he had less of a chance of being grounded. Bounding upstairs to his room, the last thing Butters was expecting was to open the door and see it full to the brim of pink, yellow and baby blue balloons.

Gasping, he could barely contain himself. He literally couldn't see ANYTHING in his room – all he saw were colors.

"I hope you've had a great birthday so far, Buttercup." A familiar voice called to him from within the sea of balloons.

The blond's eyes widened – he KNEW that voice. "Kenny? Kenny!" Butters called desperately, throwing himself into the room of balloons. He was surrounded by soft, squishy colors, and it made him giggle as he tried to push through them all.

"You're getting warmer!" Kenny laughed.

Butters STILL couldn't see him – all he saw were colors. He couldn't stop laughing; he'd never felt so happy in his entire life. And he hadn't even FOUND Kenny yet! Though hide and seek was one of his favorite games. Finally pushing through more of the sea of balloons that completely enveloped the room – Butters squealed as he felt someone grab his arm, and yank him through.

Bouncing back onto his bed, Butters squeaked to see Kenny lying there. He was so beautiful. The McCormick boy had really grown into his looks, and it was well known that everyone who attended South Park High had harbored a crush (at one time or another) for the good-looking heart breaker. And out of everyone… he'd chosen Butters. The smaller blond admired the way that Kenny's jagged blond hair fell across his forehead and eyes. He was really fit and toned, but not in a bulky sense. He was taller than Butters, and could easily wrap his arms around the smaller blond.

In truth… Kenny was the most gorgeous person Butters had ever laid eyes on.

Throwing his arms around his boyfriend, Butters hugged him tighter than he ever had before. "I'm so happy you're here!" He stammered, his eyes brimming with happy tears. "I-I had the greatest day! …. O-Oh, but… are you feeling better?" He asked, pulling away from the hug and looking to Kenny with some concern.

"Butters, I'm _fine_." Kenny laughed, shaking his head. God, even on his own birthday, the small blond seemed more concerned about Kenny. "I just skipped school in order to come here and blow up all these balloons. I KNEW it was an all day project." He smiled, looking around; still nothing could be seen, except the bed they were sitting on, and each other in a sea of balloons.

Butters looked around as well, his eyes in complete awe. "It's beautiful Ken! Like a… like a sea of... of love and color!" He gushed. "I-I want to keep them - and you - here forever!" He smiled. Butters felt so safe in this sea of colors and balloons… safe, alone, with Kenny.

"You're lucky I'm so good at blowing things…" Kenny purred, pulling Butters further onto the bed with him.

The smaller blond giggled happily; his cheeks blushing as he settled himself on top of Kenny as he lay on his back. His legs straddled the hips of the attractive McCormick teen, as he pressed his chest down against Kenny's, and began to stroke his face and brush the hair away from it. He hadn't understood why Kenny always insisted on keeping his hair over his eyes… or wearing large parkas and hoods. Maybe it was to keep that alluring, mysterious vibe – but personally, Butters adored seeing Kenny's face.

Nestling his nose against Kenny's, the two exchanged a deep kiss; Butters melted into the boy more as he felt his arms wrap around his waist and pull him closer. When they pulled back from the kiss, Kenny frowned, noticing some tears trailing down the apple of Butters' cheeks.

"Butters?" He said gently, wiping away the wet streaks gently with his thumb.

He shook his head, "I-I'm just _so_ happy…" He admitted, choking back a small sob as he smiled. "I… it's been a long time since I've…" The blond began, seeming to get more choked up as he tried to explain.

But Butters didn't HAVE to explain. Kenny knew what he was talking about; out of everyone they knew, Butters had a rough go of his life up until this point. His childhood had been filled with malicious pranks, manipulations, teasing, and humiliation, which only added to the stress of his strict (and somewhat crazy) parents.

Rolling him over, Kenny shifted their positions so Butters was lying back on the bed, and Kenny was positioned above him; his weight resting on the smaller blond, but in no way crushing him – while his hips rested comfortably between Butters' legs.

Leaning down, he lightly kissed Butters' trembling lower lip. "You don't have to say anything, Buttercup…" He whispered, nestling his nose against the smaller blond's. "You've been through a lot… and now… I'm going to make it up to you." Kenny smiled warmly. "You'll be happy from now on. This feeling won't go away… I promise." He soothed.

"I-I … love you." Butters sighed, wrapping his arms tightly around Kenny's neck.

Kenny held him back warmly, rolling onto his side, so they were spooned against one another. "I love you too, Buttercup." He purred, gently stroking the top of the blond's hair as he held him.

_Somewhere maybe someday_

_Maybe somewhere far away_

_Somewhere maybe someday_

_Maybe somewhere far away_

_I'll meet a second little person,_

_And we'll go out and play…_


	6. Trading Places :: Creek

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD… like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings: **Multiple!

**Summary: **This is just a series of one-shots… I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, Espresso Con Panna, etc).

**Notes I: **There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II :** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics… I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE – I'd like your opinions as well… so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know J

**Notes III:** WOOT … all the usual, smut, fluff, romance, angst, hurt, friendship, etc.

* * *

**Pairing:** Craig/Tweek/Stan

**Shot-Theme: **Let Go – by – Frou Frou

Alright, so gonna do a one-shot with Stan/Tweek/Craig … Just because I feel like it lol xD – this thread will probably be a little rated **M**, so fair warning haha

This is kind of long :S lol

* * *

"Ok, I'm here…" Craig said lazily as he sat on the edge of Tweek's bed. "What's up?" He asked.

The twitchy blond was pacing back and forth in his room anxiously; occasionally, he'd stop to take a healthy, desperate sip from his coffee thermos. Craig had been thoroughly enjoying a relaxing evening at home, when Tweek had called him – spouting some insane theories, and telling Craig he NEEDED to speak with him right away. It was only 9pm, but Craig had debated whether or not it was a little 'late' to head over to Tweek's for what HE thought would be a discussion about… well, underpants gnomes, probably.

But his friendship with Tweek (and the fact the blond probably wouldn't shut up about it) – convinced Craig to suck up his laziness and go to Tweek's house. If all went to plan, he could still get back home by ten or ten-thirty, and get a good night's sleep before they BOTH had to be in school the next day.

"_Ack_! I-I'm sorry! I know you don't like –_nngh_- me calling late on a school night! B-But… Oh Jesus, I can't stop thinking about it! _Gah_! I NEED to tell you!" The smaller blond teen erupted anxiously.

Craig sighed, "Tell me what? The Underpants Gnomes are revolting? You accidentally killed your father? You spilled something at the store? The government has bugged your room? … Come on Tweekers, out with it." He listed casually – like he could predict any possible excuse the blond might have for freaking out.

Tweek paused, flinching a bit – before his eyes looked around his room scatteredly.

"_Nngh_! D-Do you really think the government has bugged my room! Oh Jesus!" He twitched, clutching his thermos. It obviously didn't take much to get him off topic.

His best friend just rolled his eyes, "_Focus_, Tweek. Stick to the subject. Why the hell am I sitting here?" He asked impatiently. "If you don't tell me, I'm gonna go back home." It was as simple as that.

"NO! P-Please don't go yet! _Ack_! I haven't told you yet! And if I don't tell you, my mind is going to –_nngh_- explode!" The blond panicked, tugging at his jagged hair. "I…I…" Tweek began, looking at Craig nervously. The raven-haired boy quirked a brow, still trying to hear Tweek out, but his best friend was obviously having issues with this particular 'confession'. "I… -_nngh_-… Ilikeyou." He mumbled.

Craig tilted his head; a confused look spreading onto his face. "You like me? That's it?" He repeated. "I like you too." The teen shrugged.

"_Gah_! N-No!" Tweek flinched, tugging anxiously at the hem of his shirt. "I mean…-_nngh_- I… I… Oh Jesus, PRESSURE!" He screamed. "I LOVE YOU!"

There was an enormous silence that filled the room, as Craig stared at the spazing blond standing in front of him.

Tweek loved him? Craig highly doubted it was possible for ANYONE to love him… he was such an asshole. And what's worse was that he _enjoyed_ being an asshole. "Um," Craig finally cleared his throat. "Thanks?" He said awkwardly.

"_Nngh_!" The blond just made a small sound from the back of his throat; his large, hazel eyes looking to Craig expectantly. He could already see those gentle orbs brimming with unfallen tears.

Standing up from the side of Tweek's bed, Craig sighed and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "Look, it's probably just a phase." He shrugged. "You'll get over it. It's probably just some kind of… best friend… affection." Craig said.

"_Gah_! B-But what if it's not? Jesus man, I can't stop thinking about YOU!" Immediately after he said it, Tweek's hands flew to his mouth and covered it.

Craig blushed a bit, and again, cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um…"

Jesus, what the hell was he supposed to say?

He liked Tweek a lot; he cared about Tweek, and he protected him… but did he LOVE him? Honestly, Craig didn't know. He had never really _thought_ about the possibility of being with a guy. Hell, it wasn't like he had many female prospects, but that's because he'd never really been interested. Now, here was this vulnerable, twitchy, paranoid, unique blond standing in front of him – telling him that he loved him – and Craig couldn't bring himself to say it back.

Craig knew he'd had daydreams before, involving Tweek being a female. If that was the case, he might have jumped at the chance.

But now… he just felt awkward.

"Look Tweekers, I gottta go." Craig said a bit sadly; like deep down he hated to leave his best friend so sketched out. Reaching out, he patted the blond on the shoulder supportively. "I'm sure it's just a phase."

When his gray eyes looked into Tweek's hazel ones – he saw they were still filling with embarrassed, and heartbroken tears. Damn, it was so gut wrenching to see his best friend cry… ESPECIALLY at Craig's own expense. He didn't want to hurt Tweek, but hell, wasn't it better to be honest? He really didn't know how he felt about the blond. There was affection there; he cared for him a great deal, he looked out for him, and he'd made it his job to take care of Tweek. Nothing major, but things like getting him coffee when he ran out, talking him down over the phone when he got into one of his paranoid ruts, making sure bullies left him alone at school, and everything in between.

Nodding – and at a loss of what to say to the blond teen who was anxiously on the verge of tears, Craig left Tweek's room, and headed back downstairs and out the door. He did feel awful, but he didn't want to make matters worse!

By the time Craig got home and into bed, he couldn't sleep.

He couldn't stop thinking about Tweek's confession and how it made him feel. Truthfully, Craig was confused about his feelings. The ones he had toward Tweek, were feelings that Craig hadn't actually HAD before. So how the hell was he supposed to label them? He didn't know what to call his gut wrenching, heart lurching feeling that crept into his stomach and up his throat when Tweek had told him he loved him…

* * *

Getting out of his car the next morning, Craig yawned as he walked up the driveway toward Tweek's front door. He knocked on it quickly… the same way he did every morning. But surprisingly, Tweek didn't answer the door – his mother did.

"Oh, hello Craig." She greeted warmly; holding a cup of coffee in hand.

He nodded, "Where's Tweek? We're gonna be late." He said, glancing behind Mrs. Tweak in search of her son. He always drove the blond to school in the morning. Sure, he'd spent a few minutes debating himself at home whether or not to come; he hoped Tweek didn't feel too embarrassed or awkward about his confession the previous night.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear, Tweek left already. He took the bus today." She smiled, her sweet voice completely clueless as to the concern striking Craig.

He furrowed his brow, "Oh. Ok." The raven-haired boy quickly left, got in his car, and headed to school… all the while thinking, Tweek took the bus? He hadn't taken the bus in years. And why all of a sudden did he start up? Something about it just didn't sit right with Craig – and he found himself driving a little faster than usual to school.

God knows it was the LAST place he actually wanted to be – but it held the person he wanted to see.

Pulling into his usual spot, Craig hopped out of the car and jogged toward the doors of the high school. Once he was in, the teen made the familiar trek through its halls, until he reached his locker. To his disappointment, Tweek wasn't there like he was every morning. No… instead, Tweek was further down the row of lockers, talking to Stan.

Stan Marsh?

This made Craig all the more annoyed as he watched them talking; Stan _fucking_ Marsh? Why the hell was Tweek talking to him? Heading away from his locker, Craig found himself walking right over to Tweek.

"_Arg_! H-Hey Craig!" Tweek greeted anxiously, tugging at some of his blond hair.

But Craig just stared at him blankly. "Why weren't you at home when I went to pick you up?" He asked; his voice a bit sharper than he had intended it to be. "I _always_ pick you up." He reminded the blond.

"_GAH_! I-I know, I'm sorry… I just felt like –_nngh_- taking the bus today." Tweek answered, his cheeks flushing slightly with a pink blush.

Why the hell was he blushing? Craig narrowed his eyes, looking from Tweek – to Stan. The other boy didn't seem too concerned, or really interested. "Come on. We're gonna be late for class." Craig said, tugging on Tweek's arm – thus, subconsciously (and successfully) tugging him away from Stan.

"O-Ok!" Tweek agreed, moving his hands to yank on the hem of his shirt. "B-Bye Stan! _Ack_!" He flinched.

Stan turned and gave Tweek a genuine smile. "Bye Tweek. See you in second period." He said.

Craig furrowed his brow again and flipped Stan off, before he began to walk with Tweek down the hall. It was a little concerning to see Stan suddenly chatting so closely with Tweek. He hadn't been doing that yesterday; what the hell had happened on the bus this morning?

The raven-haired boy took SOME satisfaction in noticing that Kyle didn't seem very pleased this morning either.

In fact, his mood seemed to mirror Craig's. He'd caught the redhead sending Stan a glare or two while he was talking with Tweek.

* * *

When second period ended, Craig was hesitant to let Tweek out of his sight. They weren't in second period together… but he knew that Stan was in that class. For a few minutes after first period, Craig even tried to convince Tweek to skip second period with him. But the sketchy blond just freaked out, and headed to class anyway.

Too distracted with this whole weird morning – Craig decided to skip himself, and spent his time hiding out in the cafeteria, stewing over his thoughts.

Occasionally, he would try and text Tweek; asking the blond what he was doing. But none of his messages were responded to. It angered him a bit – since Tweek ALWAYS texted him back within a few minutes… if not immediately.

After a few agonizing hours, second period was finally out, and everyone in his senior year would be heading to lunch. Already seated at their usual table, Craig kept his gray eyes on the look out for his twitchy blond friend. Clyde, Token, Cartman and Kenny arrived first; casually chatting amongst themselves while Craig pointedly ignored them. They were kind of use to Craig's anti-social moods, so they didn't really think anything of it. Finally,

Kyle joined their table… and seemed incredibly grumpy, just like he had been this morning. He mumbled a greeting to everyone – and shot a brief, pointed look at Craig – before starting to eat his lunch.

The raven-haired teen ignored the glare, and kept looking for Stan and Tweek. He didn't know what was up Kyle's ass, but HE had bigger concerns. When his eyes finally settled on the twitchy blond coming into the cafeteria, Craig breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least he was alive. But when he saw Stan walking next to him, his gaze hardened a bit. What the _hell_? Why were they acting so close all of a sudden?

Reaching the table, Tweek took a seat beside Craig, and Stan took a seat across from Tweek… and beside Kyle. The four teens sat there; Craig and Kyle obviously irked, and Tweek and Stan chatting back and forth.

"Tweek, come over tonight." Craig said. He didn't ask, no, he basically just TOLD Tweek he was coming over. It wasn't an unusual request, but his voice had a hint of anxiousness about it.

The blond twitched, "_Nngh_! I-I CAN'T tonight!" He exclaimed, covering his mouth with his hands like he'd just blurted out some big secret.

"Why not?" Craig asked sharply, warning Tweek with a glare.

Tweek flinched, tugging roughly on his blond hair. "_Agh_! S-Stan and I have to work on a project –_nngh_- for our HISTORY class!" He exclaimed nervously.

"Yeah it's some stupid presentation." Stan chimed in calmly.

But what surprised Craig (and apparently Kyle) the most… was to watch Stan, as he leaned over the table – reached out, and lightly grasped Tweek's hand in his own, to stop the twitchy blond from tugging at his hair. Tweek complied – another heavy blush settling on his soft cheeks, as he followed Stan's gesture and released his own hair.

It was only a few seconds, before Stan smiled, and released Tweek's hand before going back to his lunch.

Technically – the move wasn't a big deal. Craig had to do that _constantly_; pull Tweek's own hand out of his hair, because when Tweek tugged on it, he tended to rip it out.

But that _was_ the problem… CRAIG normally did that. HE was supposed to stop Tweek from tugging on his hair – not Stan.

The raven-haired boy couldn't help but give Stan a deadly glare; and Kyle seemed to be doing the same... only HE was looking at Tweek.

"Well, why don't _we_ hang out, Stan?" Kyle asked suddenly, shrugging as he looked seriously toward his super best friend. "I can help you do everything for your History presentation, and Tweek can just stay home and relax. Wouldn't you rather do that, Tweek?" Kyle asked, turning his narrowed green eyes toward the blond.

God, Kyle seemed just as desperate as CRAIG was for the two not to hang out. He wondered what Kyle's beef with Tweek was.

But the blond flinched, "_GAH_! B-But if I don't do it, the teacher will find out –_nngh_- and suspend me for not doing my OWN WORK! _Ack_! And then I'll be on the streets, and my life will be ruined!" He exclaimed, tugging on his shirt and looking around wildly. "T-This whole area is probably bugged! A-And NOW they've got _you_ on TAPE, man!" Tweek said, pointing at Kyle.

"Tweek, you're fine." Stan laughed, nudging Tweek beneath the table with his leg. Though when Craig shot his eyes down, he couldn't help but notice that Stan KEPT his leg resting against Tweek, instead of pulling it away.

He clenched his teeth, and watched silently as Stan turned back to Kyle. "Thanks for the offer dude, but Tweek and I will be fine. It'll be easier if we just get it over with." He smiled, nodding to the redhead before continuing to eat.

It was obvious that Kyle wanted to debate his point a little more… but reluctantly went back to eating his lunch instead.

* * *

The phone rang four times before Tweek finally picked up.

"_Ack_! H-Hello!" He asked anxiously.

Craig growled, "What the _hell_ have you been doing? It's almost eleven at night – why didn't you call me back?" He asked angrily.

He hadn't been able to stop thinking about Tweek all day, and most of the night. Craig kept imagining what Stan and Tweek might be doing. He'd tried to call several times, but each time Tweek's phone went to voicemail… which resulted in a few voicemails of Craig sputtering some insults, and a few of him simply hanging up on the machine.

When it got to be eleven o'clock, Craig figured they HAD to be done their project.

Tweek had finally answered. "W-We just finished working on it –_nngh_-…" The blond on the other end of the phone said.

Craig was about to speak again, when he heard a muffled voice on the other end. Tweek then responded in his own muffled, anxious voice… like he was talking to someone else; like they were whispering.

"Tweek!" Craig snapped, eager to get the attention of the blond back. "Who are you talking to? Is Stan _still_ there?" He asked impatiently.

The blond made some nervous noises on the other end, "Y-Yeah! _Ack_! I told you, we JUST finished, man!" Tweek exclaimed.

Craig's eyes narrowed. "Well tell him to go the fuck _home_. We've still got school tomorrow and _you_ need a good sleep." The raven-haired boy ordered sharply; his voice was achingly serious, and discovering Stan was STILL with Tweek at this hour made him slightly nauseous.

"I-I will! _Gah_! But I…" Tweek began; but there was another pause, more shuffling, more whispering, before the blond started to talk. "I've gotta GO, man! _Nngh_! I'll see you tomorrow." He rambled quickly.

Craig frowned and opened his mouth to yell at Tweek – but was cut off by the sound of a dial tone.

Hanging up his cell phone, Craig tossed it angrily across the room. Why the hell was this bothering him so much? Was it because Stan had successfully stolen Tweek from his side in the fourth grade? Maybe. He HAD been really upset about that, but since then, he'd only gotten closer to the twitchy blond.

But Tweek had also told him that he loved him. And while Craig hadn't said it back… he almost felt like telling Tweek; _"If you love me, than do what I say."_ – Especially when it came to this new hobby of hanging out with Stan.

Craig wanted to put an end to it before he was replaced as Tweek's best friend…

Or worse… maybe even replaced as the _one_ who held Tweek's heart…

* * *

Craig had never been so dumbfounded than he was at school the next day. He couldn't speak, he couldn't blink – all he could do was stare.

Tweek and Stan arrived at school, together, holding hands. Thankfully, Craig wasn't the only one who was shocked; Kyle seemed just as angry and surprised… while Cartman, Token and Clyde merely joked around about it. Kenny mumbled that he'd known all along, but that was probably bullshit.

_This_ was what jealousy felt like; it was heart achingly sickening, and left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had to stand there and watch the two holding hands; occasionally, Stan would drape his arms around Tweek smaller shoulders… and the twitchy blond would actually RESPOND by leaning against Stan more; resting his head on his chest.

It was infuriating.

It took every ounce of Craig's self control to stop himself from walking right over there – and punching Stan in the face. They were of equal size and shape; both tall, well built with lean muscle, and dark, distinguished features. Of course, Stan didn't wear his stupid hat anymore – while Craig did. He was certainly more careless and 'laid back' in his style than Stan.

He always figured that Stan was a version of himself; _that_ is what HE would look like if he gave a fuck about school, friends and a social life.

But Craig DIDN'T give a fuck… until now.

Now? He found himself wishing it were HIM that Tweek was so comfortable with.

Marching over toward them, Craig yanked Tweek's arm. "Come on, we're going to be late for first period." He growled – shooting Stan a deadly glare, before dragging the blond off.

Tweek followed, but was thrown off guard when Craig dragged him into the bathroom, instead of the classroom. It was empty in the boys room as Craig turned to face the blond. "What the fuck are you doing?" He demanded. "You're going out with Stan?" Craig asked, unable to hide the look of disgust on his face. "I thought you were in love with me!" It was the first, childish argument that came to mind - and Craig just went with it, despite how contradictory it seemed to his statement a few days ago.

"_ACK_!" Tweek blurted out, looking to Craig with anxious fear. "B-But you said you _didn't_ feel the same way! _Nngh_! W-What was I supposed to do?" He asked.

Craig just continued to glare at him. "Yeah, but this was like, a few DAYS ago, Tweek! Is that how easy it is to get over ME? A few days, before suddenly _Stan_ is the guy for you?" He snapped sarcastically. "What the FUCK could you possibly see in him?" He demanded. "Tell me!"

"_G-GAH_!" Tweek screamed, cowering back against the bathroom wall, like he was afraid Craig was going to hit him. "H-HE looks like YOU!" Tweek blurted out.

There was another silence that filled the bathroom, and finally, Tweek poked his eyes out from around his arms; Craig was staring at him. "...What?" He simply repeated with his mouth agape.

"_Nngh_! H-He reminds me of you!" Tweek stammered, tugging on his shirt. "H-He has dark hair and, _ack_, you k-kind of look the same!" He said. But then Tweek's eyes narrowed a bit, "Y-You didn't tell me you liked me BACK! _Agh_! S-So I was talking to Stan about it and –_nngh_- he told me not to worry! That I WOULD find someone else! _Gah!_ And then he kissed me, and it –_nngh_- felt REALLY good!" Tweek rambled on anxiously, as he began to pace. "I-I can't wait, man! Oh god, I'm almost TWENTY! I-If I don't get over you now, I'll be alone the rest of my life! _Gah_! And I-I'll die alone!" He snapped.

Silence fell between them both; Craig couldn't stop staring at Tweek in complete awe. Realizing what he'd just blurted out, Tweek's hands flew up to his mouth and covered it… before he turned and bolted out of the bathroom.

Craig didn't chase him this time… he just stood there. Maybe he had been hanging out with Tweek for too long – because that paranoid speech actually made SENSE to Craig. Fuck. It WAS his fault that Tweek had gone to Stan; HE was the one who didn't tell Tweek that he loved him back. He was the one who told his blond companion that he'd 'get over it'…

He pushed Tweek into the arms of Stan.

"Mother fucker." He swore at himself.

* * *

The next week was agony.

Craig found himself becoming more and more obsessed with Tweek. He stared at him constantly; he watched his every move, and flew into rages of jealousy when he saw Tweek and Stan together. At one point during the week, he'd walked in on Stan and Tweek making out in the bathroom… and after running promptly back out, he'd found another unoccupied washroom, and threw up.

He had to face facts… he'd been avoiding the idea, the _realization_, for weeks. But things had gone too far, and he literally couldn't take ANY more…

Craig loved Tweek. He loved him more than he'd ever thought it was possible to love ANYONE or ANYTHING.

And he'd lost him.

He'd been too stupid to admit his deep, hidden feelings for the twitchy blond… and as such, he'd lost Tweek to the alternate-good-boy-version of himself. Stan Marsh.

It was _that_ thought which possessed Craig to go over to Stan's house directly after school. He'd made sure to follow Tweek home – in the hopes of securing a one-on-one with Stan. Knocking on his door rapidly, Craig waited impatiently before Stan finally opened the door.

He looked shocked to see Craig, and raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Uh… hi?" Stan greeted awkwardly.

"Upstairs." Craig ordered. "We need to talk."

Pushing past Stan without waiting for an invitation – Craig jogged up to Stan's room, and was followed by the other teen. When they got up there, Craig shut the door behind them, and watched as Stan flopped back down onto his bed; picking up his disregarded magazine.

"Break up with Tweek." He said simply.

Stan didn't look at Craig; instead, he kept flipped through his magazine. "Why would I do that?" He asked simply.

"He doesn't love you." Craig answered bluntly; his voice firm and unwavering. "He's only dating _you_ because _we_ look alike. He's still in love with me." It was a really self-centered excuse, and Craig knew that. Hell, he wasn't even SURE that Tweek really did still love him. But he had to believe that the twitchy blond was still his… deep down, he KNEW it.

Stan smirked, "You think he's _only_ dating me because I look like you?" He repeated. "Prove it." He shrugged.

"Prove it?" Craig said, a look of confusion passing over his features. "How the hell do I PROVE that?"

Sliding up from his bed, Stan walked over to his dresser and pulled out a t-shirt, some jeans, and a hoodie. "Here, put these on." He instructed him. "Tweek is expecting _me_ over at his house around seven. So, you dress up like me… and pretend to be me. Then we'll know who he really loves." Stan shrugged; that teasing grin still plastered on his face.

Craig glared; looking from the clothing in hand – and then back to Stan. "Fine." He agreed, beginning to take off his own clothes. To his surprise, Stan began to take off HIS clothes as well, and change into the clothing Craig was disregarding.

"Why the hell are you putting on MY clothes?" Craig snapped, pulling Stan's t-shirt over his head.

But Stan just grinned, "I need to find something out about Kyle. So _I'm_ going to pretend to be _you_. If I know him, he'll be JUST as pissed as you are about me and Tweek." He said. "So, I'll pretend to be you – go over to Kyle's – and suggest we think of some kind of plan to break up 'Tweek and Stan'." He laughed.

"You're a freak." Craig mumbled.

Finally dressed, Craig looked himself over in Stan's mirror. Hell, he really DID look like Stan. They could have been brothers; aside from the different colored eyes, and slightly different nose. But still – no one would be able to tell.

"See? It's going to work." Stan smiled – reaching up and taking Craig's toque off his head – and plopping it onto his own. "And now I look like the devilishly handsome under-achiever that EVERYONE wants to be with." He teased sarcastically. "Seriously, why do your jeans have so many rips in them?" Stan complained.

Craig tossed him a warning look, before he headed to the door with Stan following behind. As they got to the front door, Sharon called to them – "Bye Stan!"

"Bye mom!" Craig automatically answered. Sharon didn't seem to notice the difference, and when right back to her crossword.

When they got outside, Craig shook his head. "This better work." He grumbled.

"Dude, we just fooled my _mom_. We'll be fine." Stan reassured him. "Good luck." He grinned – before he jogged off down the street toward Kyle's house. For some reason, Craig thought it was kind of weird that Stan was so eager to play out this little 'life-switch' that he'd proposed.

Actually, he'd come up with the idea rather quickly.

It made Craig a little suspicious, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he headed toward Tweek's house on foot – trying to practice his 'Stan'-isms. They weren't really friends, but he'd grown up with the guy and knew enough about him to pull it off.

* * *

Knocking on the Tweak's front door, he waited patiently for his mother to answer. "Oh, hello again Stanley." She smiled. "Tweek's upstairs."

"Thanks Mrs. Tweak." Craig nodded with a polite smile, before heading upstairs.

Ugh, he hated this 'polite' stuff. He was used to just walking in and heading upstairs without needing to talk to anyone. But Craig figured Stan was one of those boys that EVERY mother would love.

Reaching Tweek's door, Craig took a deep breath and readied himself, before he walked in. "Hey Tweek." He smiled.

"_Arg_! H-Hey!" Tweek smiled bashfully, standing up from his computer chair and walking over to Stan. Tentatively, Tweek stood up on his toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

Craig felt his face heat a bit. Being this close to Tweek made him realize how vulnerable and adorable he looked; wide eyes, jagged blond hair, delicate features. He was hypnotized for a few moments, before Tweek began to make some anxious noises. "_Nngh_! W-What's wrong with you?" He asked nervously; that paranoid twitch appearing in his eye. "S-Something's different!" He squeaked.

Mentally, Craig began to panic. Shit, he'd stared too long – especially considering he was supposed to be Stan.

"Nothing." He laughed, trying to play up Stan's light-hearted attitude. "I'm just happy to see you." Craig smiled, wrapping his arms around Tweek's waist and resting his forehead against the blond's.

Tweek seemed to relax at the display of affection, and cuddled into his arms; his twitching subsiding comfortably.

While he LOVED the feeling of holding Tweek this way… a pulsing thought in the back of his mind kept ruining the moment: He thinks YOUR _Stan_.

"Y-You wanna –_nngh_- watch the movie now?" Tweek asked, looking up toward 'Stan' with an affectionate, warm gaze.

Stretching up a bit once more, the flinching blond gently kissed 'Stan's lips again, tugging his lower lip between his teeth.

Craig involuntarily groaned at the small move, but cleared his throat, "U-Uh… yeah. Yeah, let's watch the movie…" He agreed; his eyes lusted over, and his head cloudy.

Damn; that was pretty hot. The raven-haired imposter had to bite his tongue to stop from protesting Tweek as he moved away. The blond moved over to his computer and popped in a dvd disk – adjusting the monitor toward his bed so they could watch.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Craig quickly moved onto the bed, and positioned himself sitting up in the center, with his back resting slightly against Tweek's headboard. Since he was in the middle, Tweek would be forced to sit close to him, no matter what side he got in from.

When Tweek headed back toward the bed, Craig noticed that he'd put on 'Planet Terror'… it was one of his favorite movies; in fact, one he thought was a movie that he and Tweek specifically watched together. THEIR movie.

"You like this movie?" Craig asked in the guise of Stan.

The blond nodded rapidly as he scooted up closer to Craig on the bed, lying beside him and draping his arm over the other teen's waist; his head resting on 'Stan's stomach. "_Nngh_! I-It's Craig's favorite movie," The twitchy blond said.

"That guy's an asshole." Craig commented with a slight scoff. This was just how he imagined Stan talking about him behind his back to Tweek.

But Tweek flinched, and wrapped his arms tighter around Stan as they lay on his bed; facing the monitor as he cuddled against the teen beside him. "N-No he's not." The blond answered quietly.

Craig couldn't help but look down at Tweek as he lay against him. He'd been so wrong about his feelings for Tweek. He couldn't believe how stupid he'd been – and now, because of his subconscious effort of pushing those feelings DOWN… he'd lost Tweek to Stan. Reaching his hand up, Craig began to thread his fingers comfortingly through the blond's wild mess of hair. Tweek made small noises as he let 'Stan' pet him lovingly; it felt so good.

As they watched the movie, Craig found himself shifting down further and further – in and effort to be more 'beside' Tweek at eye level, than supporting him as he lay on the bed. When they were against one another, Craig couldn't help but watch Tweek instead of the movie…

He watched the way he blinked erratically (not at all like a normal human being, in some kind of rhythm) – he watched the way his bottom lip trembled occasionally in thought, or when a small anxious noise escaped his mouth – he watched the way his teeth would peek out to graze at his lower lip when he was in thought.

Finally, Tweek turned and looked at Craig; abandoning the movie. For a few moments, they just lay there, looking at one another.

He knew he should have been worried about Tweek looking at him THIS closely… he figured the blond would jump up and start screaming about he was an impostor! – Or that he really didn't _look_ like Stan!

But instead, the blond leaned forward and pressed his lips against 'Stan' as he lay beside him. Craig closed his eyes and relished the feeling of their lips together; there was such a spark, a desire, and an arousal as his senses confronted this twitchy, blond human being. He smelled like a mixture of coffee and caramel… he tasted a little bitter, but also sweet, because of the amount of flavored caffeine he consumed on a daily basis… and his small, affirmative noises only spurred Craig on.

Shifting up and over, Craig positioned himself above Tweek – and deepened the kiss more eagerly. He wanted more - he NEEDED more.

The past two weeks had been absolute torture, and now he had a chance to experience what he missed out on. He moaned as he felt Tweek's hips eagerly bucking against his own. His hands ran over the lithe body of the blond beneath him, which only erupted a desperate cry passing through Tweek's mouth and into Craig's as he kissed him. His tongue licked a trail down the blond's chin and around his jaw, before he attacked his neck with eager licks and bites. Tweek stammered and gripped Craig's hoodie – tugging at it as he became more aroused.

Pulling back quickly, Craig immediately pulled off the hoodie and t-shirt Stan had given him to wear. Tweek sat up as well, anxiously fumbling out of his own t-shirt, before both of them helped each other get their jeans off. Pushing their bodies back against one another, Craig began to lick and suck the smooth skin of Tweek's neck and chest again. The blond shuddered and continued to erupt in anxious noises – as his hand slid down Craig's toned stomach, to the hem of his boxers. When Tweek slipped his fingers beneath the hem of his boxers, Craig couldn't help but release a throaty moan from the back of his throat.

"Tweek," He mumbled huskily – bringing his lips back up to the blond's. He cried out when he felt Tweek's timid, slender fingers wrap around his hard cock. Groaning, Craig absentmindedly began to thrust into the blond's hand as he started to jack him off. Tweek's nervous twitching, his noises and erratic mistimed hand-movements were almost TOO much… Craig didn't think he'd _ever _been so turned on in his life. He was getting the _best_ hand-job of his life by a teen that he _never_ would have thought to be good at them.

Knowing it wouldn't take much more to get him to cum right there and then – Craig grabbed Tweek's hand and stopped his movements desperately groaning as he eagerly slid Tweek's boxers off his long legs. Positioning himself between the blond's legs, Craig rubbed his erect cock against Tweek; emitting a lusty and eager cry to pass Tweek's lips as he lulled his head back. His hips bucked against Craig's, and the raven-haired boy found himself intensely dry humping Tweek back against the bed.

But it didn't last long… Craig simply couldn't take it any more.

Entering Tweek with a swift thrust, his hand flew up to instinctively cover Tweek's mouth with his hand. The blond did scream, but thankfully, the sound was muted by Craig's hand. He panted in and out quickly, groaning on cue as he felt the blond teen adjust to his length inside him. Slowly, he began to thrust – each move sending waves of pleasure raking through his body. Tweek seemed to be enjoying it JUST as much as he moaned and screamed into Craig's hand.

"Craig!" He heard Tweek call into his hand, "O-Oh Jesus! C-Craig!" He repeated.

Fuck it was hot.

Speeding up his thrusts, Craig grit his teeth together – trying to keep his own eager noises down to a minimum, before he grabbed Tweek's hard dick in his hand, and began to jack him off in time with his thrusts. The blond thrashed his head around wildly; moaning and bucking his hips roughly into Craig's. Their bodies tensed, and soon enough, they both released; Tweek spilling himself over Craig's hand, and Craig spilling himself into Tweek's body. Their eyes focused on one another, and without missing a beat – Tweek wrapped his hand around Craig's neck, and pulled the raven-haired boy down into a kiss.

Craig complied greedily, licking and claiming Tweek's mouth with a hungry passion – despite being exhausted from their amazing sex.

Pulling back from their kiss, Craig slid out of Tweek with a groan – and collapsed himself onto the empty side of the bed with a sigh.

That had been one of the single, most exciting experiences of his entire life. And he was someone who liked things BORING.

But THAT… certainly wasn't boring. It was enthralling, it was earth shattering, and he'd never been so fucking distraught. He was missing out on this – he was missing out on Tweek. _Fuck my life_… Craig thought to himself angrily.

But a thought occurred to him. While they had been going at it, Tweek had called him 'Craig'. But he was supposed to be 'Stan'.

Maybe Tweek thought about him while he had sex with Stan. The possibility made his stomach flutter in anticipation. He _had_ to know.

Putting his 'Stan' mask back on, Craig gave Tweek a disappointed look. "You called me Craig when we were having sex." He said, his voice sounding hurt and offended… after all, wouldn't someone be hurt if their lover called out someone _else's_ name?

"_Nngh_!" Tweek twitched, his face flushed with afterglow as he lay there. "...A-Are we going out now?" He asked, seeming to completely ignore Stan's comment.

Craig looked to him with a raised brow. "What?" He asked. "We're _already_ going out. But you called me _Craig_." He repeated.

"W-Well... -_nngh_- ... aren't you?" He asked anxiously.

Craig froze; his body tensing. "…What?" He asked.

"Y-You're not Stan! _Gah_!" Tweek stammered, tugging on his hair again. "Your eyes are different! A-And Stan would never have had –_nngh_- sex with me so soon! _Ack_! D-Do you think I'm stupid?" The blond asked quickly.

Craig was stunned, "I… I…" He couldn't even think of anything coherent to say.

"D-Don't be mad," Tweek said sheepishly, moving his hands from tugging on his hair to tugging on his sheets. "I-It was MY idea! S-Stan was just –_nngh_- helping ME, because HE had a similar problem with Kyle! _Gah_!" The blond explained quickly. "I had to know if you were SERIOUS about wanting me to –_nngh_- get over you!"

The raven-haired boy stared at him blankly. "So… you KNEW I'd go to Stan, and you both made up this whole 'switching-places' scheme to see if I LIKED you or not?" He repeated.

Tweek looked around his room nervously, before he nodded and cowered further into the bed.

Craig growled, and grabbed the small blond – pulling him up and over to him, before he placed a deep kiss on his lips. "Thank you." He said simply, a bare hint of a smile passing over his lips.

* * *

"So what do _you_ suggest?" Kyle asked; his arms crossed as he stared at 'Craig' – who was sitting on the edge of his bed cockily.

The raven-haired boy grinned teasingly. "I dunno." He shrugged. "Maybe if we make out, or start dating… Tweek and Stan will get jealous."

He looked to the redhead casually – trying to read his face as he stared back at him. But a smirk grew on Kyle's lips… it was seductive; it was manipulative, and _damn_ if it wasn't hot. Stan felt his pants getting tighter right then and there.

Walking over to him, Kyle roughly shoved 'Craig' back onto his bed, and crawled on top of him, straddling his lips. "What a great idea… 'Craig'…" Kyle mused, his tone shifting into a sarcastic, playful one.

"W-What?" Stan asked, his mind already getting hazy and distracted by the feeling of Kyle's hands fumbling with his jeans.

The redhead smirked and looked right at Stan. "Come on, give me a LITTLE credit." Kyle mused. "I've looked into your eyes every day since I was four, Stan." He mumbled huskily as he tugged Stan's jeans down. "I know I was wrong. I just… didn't know how to react when you told me you were in _love_ with me." Kyle admitted.

As his hand slipped beneath Stan's boxers, he heard his best friend gasp as his fingers curled around his already-hard cock. "But now I know. I can't _stand_ seeing you with Tweek… you made your point." He said, huffing out a jealous sigh. "So cut the shit… and _fuck_ me…" He breathed.

Stan groaned and flipped their position on the bed, pinning the eager redhead beneath him as he began to undo his best friend's jeans.

The raven-haired boy made a mental note to THANK Tweek later.

Who knew that twitchy blond was capable of executing such an elaborate… brilliant… plan?

XD


	7. Not That Easy :: Kytophe

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD… like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings: **Multiple!

**Summary: **This is just a series of one-shots… I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, Espresso Con Panna, etc).

**Notes I: **There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II :** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics… I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE – I'd like your opinions as well… so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know J

**Notes III:** WOOT … all the usual, smut, fluff, romance, angst, hurt, friendship, etc.

* * *

**Pairing:** Christophe/Kyle

**Shot-Theme: **Neighborhood # 1 (Tunnels) – by – The Arcade Fire

Obviously I love Christophe. That should be obvious? Is it obvious? Well it better be. I think THIS pairing is adorable. The song, more or less, relates because of the lyrics 'I'll dig a tunnel from my window to yours' … lol… what with Christophe being so shovel-happy xD

* * *

Everyone had gathered in the community center…

Again.

God he hated these 'false alarm' panic precautions that his town tended to take. Kyle had always been one for rationality and reason – though, apparently, the general population of South Park wasn't as level headed.

This time? There was a giant snowstorm, which Randy Marsh had successfully convinced everyone WAS global warming, and that it would fall to a million degrees below zero. Yeah fucking right.

"Dude, you're dad's weak." Kyle complained bitterly, as he took a seat beside Stan on a cot that had been set up in the center. People were scurrying around, trying to prepare.

But for the teens of South Park, it was more like a waiting game.

Stan groaned his head already buried in embarrassment into his hands. "I know… fuck, I know." He sighed. "It's beyond embarrassing at this point."

"I hate being stuck in this stupid Community Center. I swear to god, next time – I'm just going to hide in my room, and when everyone else is hiding out here, I'll be in my comfortable room playing xBox, or reading, like I _should_ be during a stupid storm." Kyle smirked.

Stan lifted his head and grinned, "But what happens if the 'next' time, there's a REAL emergency?"

"I'll deal." The redhead laughed.

The dark-haired teen nodded, giving a warm smile to his best friend before he looked away. The only thing that made these 'drills' bearable was having Kyle with him. Of course, he'd come to feel MORE than friendship for the intelligent redhead for a few years now… but Stan was afraid to act on those feelings. He was publicly dating Wendy still – and being Captain of the football team, with her leading the charge of their high school Student Council, they were a typical, perfect 'high school' couple.

If he could stop having homosexual thoughts that included his best friend… he'd probably be ok.

Easier said than done.

"I think I saw your ex here," Stan blurted out with a scoff.

Kyle glanced at Stan and sighed. "I care…" He mumbled sarcastically, looking back toward the activity happening around them.

Christophe DeLorne was the _last_ person Kyle wanted to be trapped somewhere with. Of course, technically speaking, Christophe was the hottest person Kyle had ever had the pleasure of dating. Simply, the teen was a young Adonis; he was devastatingly handsome, and topped with a seductive French accent, there wasn't really anyone he COULDN'T seduce with his charms and mystery. Kyle had certainly fallen hard for the roguish teen. But their relationship ended badly.

It wasn't exactly the most 'healthy' either, or so Kyle thought. It consisted of heated arguing, rough foreplay, torture and jealousy. Being so achingly attractive, Christophe had a wandering eye… and got used to the fact he could snag whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Obviously, that didn't sit well with Kyle – who actually BELIEVED in commitment.

He'd ended it before he got _too_ lost in the infamous Christophe DeLorne.

"Stan!" The voice of Wendy broke through both their thoughts – as she came running up and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend. "Isn't this ridiculous? I have a fucking TEST tomorrow, and these stupid assholes are preventing me from studying with all this 'global warming' nonsense. It's just a snowstorm." Wendy sighed impatiently.

As she continued to talk, Kyle stood and began to walk away – leaving Stan and Wendy alone. Stan couldn't help but watch longingly as the redhead wandered away; weaving through the crowds of people all huddled within their community center. Maybe now was the time to tell him. Maybe while they were stuck here and everyone was distracted, Stan could tell Kyle about his conflicting feelings.

But there was another person there who ALSO had a mind to speak to the redhead…

And currently, a cigarette dangled lazily from the teen's lips as he watched him from a distance. He'd been watching Kyle ever since he came in with his loud, obnoxious mother and pretentious father…

Now, all he had to do was find his moment…

* * *

As Kyle wandered around the community center, he spotted more people he knew. Clyde was bubbling about something, and Token was _pretending_ to listen as they sat on one of the set up cots. Kenny looked like he was trying to coax Butters toward an isolated corner of the chaos… no doubt to get in some 'private' time with his boyfriend. Walking away to avoid seeing ANY of that – Kyle spotted Tweek and Craig sitting with their backs against a lone wall; the blond was twitching erratically as the raven-haired teen groped his inner thigh as he whispered something to him.

_Great_, Kyle thought to himself. This was going to be a long, boring night. Stan had Wendy, Kenny had Butters, Clyde had Token and Craig had Tweek… everyone had someone to entertain them, except him. _I wonder where fatass is_? Kyle thought to himself. Pausing, he shuddered.

That was it. He HAD to find something to distract him… Jesus, he was almost desperate enough to seek out Cartman. It was bad.

"Wuahhhhh…"

Stopping in his tracks, Kyle tilted his head. He knew that sound.

"Wuahhhhh…"

Shifting, Kyle furrowed his brow and followed the sound away from the throngs of people in the main area, heading toward one of the smaller hallways.

"Wuahhhhh…"

Hearing the sound again, Kyle cautiously moved further down the hall; the sounds of the people buzzing in the arena of the community center becoming more faint.

"Wuahhhhh…"

He relaxed and stopped; a small, unimpressed smile coming to his lips – as his mind finally caught up with him. He DID know that sound; it was the sound of a dying giraffe.

Leaning beside the wall in the ill-lit hall, Kyle crossed his arms. "That sound is stupid." He grumbled.

"…But eet got you 'ere, non?" The sultry French voice of Christophe came from the darker shadows further down the hall.

Kyle could see the red, illuminated ash on the end of his cigarette glowing in the shadows. He could faintly see his ex-boyfriend's outline as he lazed against the wall casually… the light from the main arena of the community center giving both just enough light to see.

"You could have just walked up to me, if you wanted to talk." Kyle shrugged, taking a few steps toward the handsome, disheveled teen.

Christophe stared at him with those deep, forest green eyes calmly. "Would you 'ave listened?" He asked with a knowing smirk. Flicking his cigarette, he lowered his eyes. Oddly enough, Kyle felt the loss at having those dark green eyes on him; people often complimented him on HIS eyes, since they were a bright green color… but frankly, he found Christophe's dark green ones MUCH more appealing.

"…'Ow are you?" The Frenchman asked, turning to look back at Kyle; crossing his arms lazily in front of him as he looked the redhead up and down.

Kyle averted his eyes away from the mercenary. "Fine." He shrugged. He was suddenly glad the hallway was dark; it hid the blush beginning to form on his cheeks.

Damn; he thought he was OVER his crush on Christophe. The teen was nothing but trouble – he was almost as much of a sexual deviant as Kenny, only he was far more discreet about it.

"I was zhinking about you ze ozher day," Christophe mused quietly; his eyes intensely focused on the redhead. "Do you… remember ze missions we used to do?" He asked, a smile spreading on his lips. God, Kyle forgot how appealing that smile was – it was mischievous and all-knowing at the same time… it reminded him of the infamous Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. "…do you remember 'ow… exciteeng eet was?" He purred.

Kyle found the heat in his face increasing, as he shrugged and tried to act ambivalent. "Yeah… it was fun, but… I didn't really WANT to keep doing it." He admitted somewhat distastefully.

Dating Christophe had meant throwing himself into Christophe's world; the missions, the spying, the close calls, the bandages and late nights. The French teen lived an exciting life… in fact, Kyle was exhausted just thinking about it. He'd begun to work as Christophe's 'eyes and ears' on his missions; he was on the computer, he was communicating through head-sets, disabling locks, hacking into systems while watching Christophe do the more 'physical' part of the job.

They had made a good team – but Kyle couldn't help worrying about his boyfriend. He didn't WANT to have to sew up a wound, or wash the blood and dirt from his lover's hair. He wanted a normal life, didn't he?

Knowing that Kyle was probably thinking back on their times, Christophe took a step closer – using the redhead's mental distraction to his advantage. "Ah…but _mon petit chatte_… you were so _good_ at eet." His warm, silky words reminded him. Years of smoking gave his voice a textured sound; it was inviting and alluring, especially paired with his fluent French accent.

"Sorry. I wasn't prepared to watch you continually take stupid risks, in exchange for nothing but hot sex." He scoffed, shooting the toned mercenary a glare.

Christophe smirked wickedly as he began to casually circle Kyle, "Zhat eez what you believe, uh?" The Frenchman mused. "You steel try to convince yourzelf ZHAT eez ze reason you left me?" He laughed. The chuckle actually grated on Kyle's nerves more than it should have; of course that's all it had been. "No, Kyel. You left me because zhat feeling scared you." Christophe continued. "You 'ave never felt so alive. You 'ad never experienced such pass'ion, such excitement, such love. But your cocksucking conscience convinced you ozherwise." He spat.

"Fuck you." Kyle growled. "I did all that for YOU, not for me. It was just easy to _stop_ when I heard you fucking Gregory through your headset after you left it on." He hissed.

The French teen's expression shifted slightly; Kyle could almost swear he saw a bit of regret flash over his features, before it was replaced by that Cheshire grin once again. "Zhat was unfortunate, oui…" He nodded. "But alzo meaneengless. I never cared for Gregor'ee." Christophe purred. "Eet 'as _always_ been you."

"Save it. I know _he_ wasn't the only one." The redhead. "It's hard to believe you EVER saw me as anything but an assistant; someone to voluntarily watch your back, and do all the brain work you couldn't wrap your _thick_ head around." He insulted.

Alright, Kyle KNEW that was hitting below the belt. And Christophe's smile fell immediately after the redhead spoke those harsh words. "Zhat did not stop you from falleeng in love whiz me." He answered simply.

"I'm _not_ in love with you." Kyle glared.

Christophe narrowed his eyes at the redhead. "Bullsheet." He said darkly.

"Yeah, you're full of that." He snapped back quickly; why should he believe Christophe? He'd spent the past few years convincing himself he'd been JUSTIFIED in breaking up with the alluring Frenchman. He'd caught him cheating, on several different occasions.

Turning to leave, Kyle immediately felt himself yanked back – and latched into Christophe's stronger arms. Grunting, he growled as he felt Christophe's lips bump against his ear while he struggled.

"Ignore your pride, _mon petit chatte_…" He hissed huskily into Kyle's ear. God, he HATED it when Christophe called him that: his little kitten.

He was _nothing_ of the sort. Moving him back, the mercenary pushed Kyle up against the wall in the dark hallway, pinning him there with his hips and arms.

"I started to zhink about you after you'd left," He began to explain in a sultry voice. Leaning his head forward, he tried to capture Kyle's lips in a kiss… but the redhead defiantly turned his head to the side. Smirking, Christophe didn't get deterred, and instead, began licking and kissing the side of Kyle's cheek he was presented with after the redhead's refusal. He heard Kyle growl. "…'Ow you looked when you orgasmed… 'ow you used to scream my name… 'ow you used to sew up ze bullet wounds in my shouldare…" He listed deeply, his tongue and teeth accentuating his words against the smooth skin of Kyle's cheek. "Zhat soon… I realized somezhing…" He breathed; his hands moving to Kyle's jeans.

The redhead immediately tried to push his hands away, but instead, Christophe grabbed Kyle's hands and pinned them over his head against the wall. Kyle tried angrily to struggle – but Christophe was MUCH stronger. He used one of his hands to keep Kyle's arms pinned above his head, while his other snaked back down to continue undoing Kyle's jeans. "I realized… zhat _I_ missed _you_. I _wanted_ you. Zhere 'as never been anyzhing I 'ave wanted zo badlee…" He growled passionately, slipping his hand past Kyle's jeans and boxers. The redhead cried out at the contact, closing his eyes and turning his head to the other side – still too embarrassed and angry to look at the mercenary dominating him.

"Zince zhen… ze onlee mission… 'as been to get _you_ back." Christophe whispered against Kyle's smooth, firm jaw line.

At those words, a small noise erupted from the back of Kyle's throat. Christophe noticed it, and moved his head to rest against the redhead's, as his fingers lightly danced over his cock. "Look at me…" He purred; his nose nestling Kyle's cheek. Finally, the captive teen turned his head back to look at Christophe; his bright green eyes once more looking into those deep forest green orbs.

Leaning forward, Christophe quickly caught Kyle's lips in a deep, heated kiss. The redhead couldn't help but moan – his hips and body jerking forward on their own accord. As much as he HATED to admit it; as pathetic as it made Kyle feel… he'd _missed_ Christophe. He'd missed the feeling of the Frenchman on top, and inside, of him. He'd missed his lips, the smell of smoke, his sly comments, his rough hands and mysterious eyes.

God, he'd missed everything.

Christophe pulled away from the kiss much too quickly, and Kyle made a small noise of protest. But he was quickly yanked from the wall, and bent over slightly; the Frenchman positioned himself behind him, wrapping a strong arm around his slender waist to hold him back against his broad chest.

"…Forget about zhis stupeed grudge… remember 'ow eet used to _feel_… 'ow GOOD eet was…" The mercenary breathed huskily into his ear; he could hear Christophe breath coming in shorter intervals… he was panting. He was excited, and Kyle could clearly FEEL that 'excitement' pressed against his backside. Another throaty moan escaped his lips as he felt Christophe's free hand go back inside of his jeans, wrapping around his erection.

His body began to tense more as he felt Christophe beginning to jack him off with erratic, fluid movements. Kyle's knees buckled, and he found it hard to keep standing… but Christophe's arm securely wrapped around his torso held him firmly in place. Unable to stand with the amount of excitement trembling through his body, Kyle couldn't help but fall to his knees. The Frenchman knelt too – keeping his position behind Kyle as he continued his movements, not easing up on the pleasure he was giving the redhead.

But then he stopped. Kyle cried out desperately; in need of dire release. And he knew that Christophe knew that.

Instead, he heard a low, breathy chuckle come from the mercenary, as he felt him stand. Gripping Kyle's loose, red curls into his hand, he turned the redhead where he was on his knees – and without warning, shoved his own erect cock into Kyle's mouth. The teen's hands flew to Christophe's hips, gripping them tightly as he tried to put some distance between them. But the Frenchman wouldn't allow it… he just let a lusty, uncontrollable moan pass his lips as he thrust into Kyle's mouth. Knowing he could exact SOME revenge in this position, Kyle began to administer Christophe's cock properly; one hand sliding off the mercenary's hip to fondle his balls and work his shaft. This again, caused the normally 'poised' Frenchman to groan.

When Kyle pulled back from Christophe's dick, grazing it lightly with his teeth – the Frenchman lost it. Throwing Kyle onto the ground, the mercenary followed, ripping off Kyle's jeans, before positioning himself between the redhead's legs. Without warning or preparation, Christophe thrust into him – moving his hand to cover Kyle's mouth, as his lover screamed in painful pleasure.

He stayed still for a moment, moaning as he felt Kyle contracting around him – before he began to thrust… slowly building up a rhythm. The redhead's pain was gradually replaced by indescribable pleasure. He clutched onto Christophe's shoulders eagerly; digging his nails into the shoulders of the black t-shirt he was wearing. But that stinging pain only spurred Christophe on. As he rapidly thrust into Kyle, his free hand slid down the redhead's stomach – to grip once more at his erection. His other arm propped himself up on the floor. Kyle cried out louder this time as his ex-boyfriend fucked him and jacked him off all at once.

"C-Chris..." Kyle panted desperately.

The Frenchman groaned, "Say it..." He hissed out.

"I-I..." The redhead gasped, but couldn't get the words out.

It didn't take long after that for Kyle to climax – and when he heard the familiar, desperate sound pass the redhead's lips, Christophe climaxed as well. Nothing seemed to get him off faster than seeing Kyle shudder and cum in absolute, uncontrollable pleasure.

Opening his blurry eyes, Kyle couldn't help but make small noises as he felt Christophe licking and kissing his neck and jaw.

"Did you enjoy zhat, _mon petit chatte_?" The Frenchman asked in a winded voice. He was breathing deeply as well.

Wearily, Kyle nodded – his hands sliding into Christophe's hair as the mercenary continued to bite and lick his neck.

"And what about you, Stan?" Christophe asked with a smirk.

Stan? Hearing his best friend's name, Kyle looked up and saw a somewhat blurry figure standing further down the hall. Blinking, his eyes finally focused to see Stan WAS standing there, with a look of complete shock on his face.

Blushing deeply, Kyle made a small, anxious noise and tried to get up – or at least cover himself. But Christophe didn't budge; instead, he pushed Kyle back onto the floor, and made a bigger show of licking and kissing his fair skin. But as he did it, he wasn't looking at Kyle… he was looking at Stan. Like he was bragging.

Narrowing his ocean blue eyes, Stan stormed off back into the main community center arena.

"You're _such_ an asshole!" Kyle spat angrily, shoving Christophe away from him roughly – before he scrambled up and pulled on his jeans again.

Christophe simply laughed, and followed; standing, and doing up his dark green army pants again. He hadn't bothered to take them, or his high-laced combat boots off. His eyes lazily looked up to see Kyle storming back down the hall and out of sight; disappearing in the large community center area again.

Lighting up another cigarette, Christophe took his time wandering down the hall, before he too, emerged back into the center – people still milling and moving about, mumbling about global warming, and the snowstorm outside.

* * *

"Well, that didn't take long." Stan grumbled unhappily as he looked at Kyle. "I guess you're not as 'over' Christophe as you swore you were." He said.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Stan, it was a stupid lapse in judgment! I can't help the fact that the guy gives me a hard on." He said uncomfortably. "I'm sure _you_ feel the same way when you're with Wendy. I mean, shit, you've broken up with her about a hundred times – and you ALWAYS get back together. Maybe Christophe is MY Wendy." He shrugged.

"Well he _shouldn't_ be." Stan snapped. "You can do way better, Kyle. That French asshole cheated on you – and he'll probably do it again." He scoffed. Pausing, something caught Stan's eye across the community center forum, and he nodded, "See? ... He's already talking to Gregory." He smirked.

The redhead turned and quickly sought out Christophe's form. He was standing in the distance, and Gregory was beside him. Kyle couldn't help but frown as he watched Gregory pawing at Christophe – whispering into his ear in that cocky, pretentious way of his. God, he _hated_ Gregory.

But surprisingly, Christophe pushed Gregory away from him. Stan and Kyle saw the mercenary's face harden – it looked as if he was telling Gregory off. The British blond glared at him, spat something back, before storming off.

Kyle's frown faltered a bit; he figured Christophe would accept Gregory's flirtations like he always did. What had changed? Could the French playboy actually be serious about him? Did he REALLY like Kyle?

"It's just an act." Stan's voice said bitterly – breaking Kyle's little daydream. Turning back to his dark-haired best friend, Kyle couldn't help but glare a little at him. "In three days, he'll go back to fucking other people, all the while pretending he loves you."

The redhead huffed, "You don't even _know_ him." Kyle said; his mind immediately telling him he shouldn't be defending Christophe – since Stan was probably right. But Kyle just couldn't help it.

"You don't know him either." Stan responded.

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "He's my ex-boyfriend...." He mumbled sarcastically.

"Yeah, and I'm your BEST friend." The raven-haired teen reminded him. "But it's like you can't even read _me_ anymore. Or maybe you just don't give a shit." He growled.

His best friend shook his head, "Stan, what the HELL are you talking about?" He asked, with complete confusion writing on his features. "I care about you, you're my—" But he wasn't able to finish… because Stan's lips were suddenly pressed against his own.

Kyle was shocked as he felt Stan pull him closer; wrapping his arms around him. When he began to feel Stan's tongue prodding his lips – Kyle pulled back nervously. Stan breathed in and out deeply; his lustful eyes boring into his best friend's. "Best friend." He said, finishing Kyle's sentence. "_I'm_ your best friend. So why can't you see how I feel about you?" He breathed out huskily.

"S-Stan," Kyle stammered, pushing his hands on Stan's chest. "Dude, I'm sorry but… I just… I don't think it's a good idea…" He admitted awkwardly.

The raven-haired boy nestled his nose against Kyle's cheek. "You can't tell me you don't feel the same way." He breathed desperately. "We're so _close_, Kyle. We know _everything_ about each other. It's _meant_ to be." He said.

"I… beg to differ…" A smooth French voice interrupted.

Turning, both teens found themselves looking at Christophe; he didn't seem mad, just indifferent to the image of Stan's arms wrapped around Kyle. Was he worried? Not really. Mostly because it seemed like Kyle was trying to get away.

Stan glared at him. "Kyle's not falling for your shit anymore, Christophe." He spat.

"Well zhen… why doesn't HE tell me zhat." The Frenchman shrugged, moving his eyes back to Kyle's.

The redhead couldn't help but notice the slight glint of hope lingering in Christophe forest green eyes; almost like he was depending on Kyle to admit his true feelings.

"I…" Kyle began, averting his eyes down. But to the surprise of both boys, Kyle broke away from Stan's arms – taking a step back. "I-I'm sorry, Stan…" He sighed. "We're best friends. We'll always be best friends. I just think pushing that into something else might… ruin our bond." He said sadly.

Stan couldn't help but shoot Christophe a glare, before turning his eyes back to Kyle. "Fine." He said bitterly. "Just don't come crying to me when he fucks you over... _again_." He grumbled, pushing past Christophe and bumping him on the shoulder. He was hoping to entice the mercenary into a fight. But much to his disappointment, Christophe only tossed a sideways glance at him – before ignoring the disrespectful move completely.

Once Stan was gone, Christophe looked back to Kyle.

Slowly, that familiar, oh-so-teasing Cheshire cat grin formed on Christophe's lips.

Kyle blushed, "Don't get too full of yourself." The redhead mumbled, crossing his arms. "We're not exactly back on good terms." He reminded him.

But Christophe didn't seem to listen; he just walked toward Kyle with that knowing grin. The redhead anxiously took more steps back, "I'm _serious_." He pouted, trying to keep up his resistance as the Frenchman got closer and closer; clearly not buying anything that Kyle was saying.

"…'Tophe," Kyle said impatiently, stomping his foot. He always got so pissy when Christophe ignored his empty threats. But they really were empty; he knew that he'd forgiven Christophe the moment he'd gotten fucked in the hallway twenty minutes ago.

But once more, Christophe ignored him, and instead, pulled the redhead close to him – kissing him deeply on the lips. Kyle moaned, placing his hands on Christophe's toned chest in refusal… but that refusal soon melted, as he sunk deeper into the familiar cavern of the mercenary's mouth.

He blinked slowly and pulled away from the kiss childishly. "You're not getting off THAT easy." Kyle said, playfully glaring at him.

"Zhat zo?" Christophe mused, gently biting Kyle's lower lip between his teeth. "Well, what do I need to do, zhen? … Besides fuckeeng your brains out." He mused, lowering his hands to squeeze Kyle's ass.

Shockingly, Christophe's head rocked back as Kyle's elbow came up, and smashed against his cheek. Groaning, the mercenary's eyes narrowed as he looked back to the redhead. Oddly enough, Kyle had a wicked smile on his lips. "Tonight… **I** get to be the soldier, and YOU are the prisoner." He purred, lapping his tongue out suggestively against some blood that formed at the corner of Christophe's mouth from the hit.

The Frenchman moaned… a growl forming on his lips as he pulled Kyle against him tighter.

"Zhat sounds…" He paused; green eyes trailing over the redhead's mischievous face. "Fun." Christophe finished with his own mischievous grin forming on his lips.

XD

Ooc: fuck Style lol… Kytophe is CLEARLY hotter lol XD


	8. That One Word :: Creek

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD… like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings: **Multiple!

**Summary: **This is just a series of one-shots… I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, Espresso Con Panna, etc).

**Notes I: **There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II :** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics… I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE – I'd like your opinions as well… so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know J

**Notes III:** WOOT … all the usual, smut, fluff, romance, angst, hurt, friendship, etc.

* * *

**Pairing:** Craig/Tweek

**Shot-Theme: **Six Underground – by – The Sneaker Pimps

Alright, so gonna do another one shot with Craig/Tweek … and some raunchy Tweek/Stan lol Its crack, I know lol

* * *

The one word that Craig had promised himself that he would NEVER call Tweek slipped past his lips before he could stop himself:

Freak:  
_1. (noun; slang) :: person who has withdrawn from normal, rational behavior and activities to pursue one interest or obsession._

He and the twitchy blond had been friends for a long time… so long, in fact, that Craig could honestly admit NOW – that he loved him. He loved the quirky blond; he loved his twitching, his large expressive eyes, his perfect mouth, his small sounds, his unruly golden hair, his lithe body and his gentle touch.

And now, he'd ruined it.

While everyone endured Tweek, there were a lot of people who still teased him mercilessly to no end; even within their group. Craig often found himself defending the small blond (_his_ small blond) both physically and verbally each time someone teased him. It had finally gotten to the point where people tried their best to AVOID saying anything to the Tweek, for fear of upsetting his possessive, over-protective best friend.

Craig and Tweek were extremely close, and as a result, the ebony-haired teen knew that the ONE word the blond had come to hate the most, was the word: _Freak_. He had been called that word numerous times during his life, but its use was less and less since becoming friends with the infamous asshole, Craig Tucker.

But one bad day was all it took.

He'd been in a particularly horrible mood; after enduring a night of physical abuse from his father, a verbal fight with his mother, the death of his longtime favorite pet Stripe, and the knowledge his little sister was now seeing Kenny McCormick – Craig was NOT in the best of moods.

By the time he'd arrived at school that morning, he'd already picked fights with five different Park County High students before he reached his locker. Once there, Craig snapped some rapid-fire insults at Cartman for being fat and obnoxious, Token for being black and pretentious, Clyde for being stupid and over-sensitive, Kyle for being Jewish, and Stan for being a social-climbing jock.

All it took was for the twitchy blond to round the corner too quickly, and accidentally spill his coffee on Craig. I

t wasn't a first-time occurrence, but on that particular morning – it happened to be the straw that broke the camel's back. He let out a string of curses, and began going off on Tweek; degrading the fact he couldn't take care of himself, his appearance was always disheveled like he'd just rolled out of bed, and his constant paranoia was unwarranted and ridiculous. If that wasn't bad enough, Craig found himself angrily summarizing the entire rant by finishing with…

"God dammit, you're _such_ a freak!"

Tweek's large hazel eyes had almost immediately welled up with tears, before he took off down the hall, running away in absolute shame. The blond's retreating form would be forever burned into his memory. For the rest of the day, Craig didn't speak to anyone, and had simply kept to himself.

But the more he was alone, the more he thought about his earlier behavior… and the more it dawned on him WHAT exactly he'd done.

For the next few days, Craig couldn't help but notice Tweek had reverted to hanging out with Kyle, Stan, Kenny and Cartman. It didn't really HELP Craig's mood, but he knew it was entirely his fault. He'd hurt his best friend by hitting him where it hurt; he'd resorted to calling him a freak.

What's funny is, the equivalent to Craig would be the word: asshole. He _hated_ being called an asshole, despite never reacting to it when people called him one. But Tweek knew – and the small blond had NEVER called the ebony-haired teen an asshole.

This concern and bitterness toward Tweek hanging out with Stan and Kyle's group only increased when the blond _didn't_ come back to him. Two weeks passed, and STILL, Tweek avoided Craig.

He had tried countless times to get the blond to talk to him… even to the point of threatening him. But Tweek was incredibly stubborn, and his constant paranoia only strengthened his resolve. Each time their eyes met, Craig was forced to stare into those large, hazel orbs he'd come to love so much… but they were always filled with embarrassment, hurt, betrayal, and vulnerability.

It drove him insane that he couldn't make it right.

During the blond's absence, Craig came to realize how much he actually LOVED Tweek. It was torture to see him associating with those stuck-up assholes, who that thought the school _and_ it's inhabitants revolved around THEM.

But the pain and remorse he felt for taking his anger out on Tweek only _increased_ after two and a half weeks since his slip up...

His heart broke, and his lungs ceased to work the moment he saw Tweek holding hands with Stan Marsh.

At first he thought he was hallucinating… but the more he spied on Tweek, the closer he saw the small blond get to the dark-haired teenager. He and Stan had always been similar in their looks, despite being completely the opposite in terms of their personalities. It enraged Craig to see the blond being so aptly cared for by the tall, sensitive, animal-loving jock.

Perhaps because it only reminded him what he'd lost.

It was like… watching a version of HIMSELF with Tweek. Only it wasn't him; it was Stan. Stan _fucking_ Marsh.

On one particular rainy afternoon, Craig found himself confronting Stan about it. The confrontation, of course, turned into a full on fistfight between the two – that was equally matched. They were pulled apart by their friends, and once again, Craig's heart wrenched a little in his chest to see Tweek gently comforting Stan while he dabbed some blood away from his lower lip. When their eyes met, he felt something he hadn't experienced in long time: guilt. He could see the disappointment written on Tweek's face; the confusion, the worry, and the pain that came along after witnessing his ex-best friend try to pummel his new boyfriend.

But desperate times called for desperate measures… and Craig found himself more and more desperate to get his blond back.

* * *

Tweek flinched and made a small noise as he heard a knock on his door. Getting up from his computer chair, he opened it to see Stan there, a warm smile on his lips. The blond couldn't help but twitch, and smile himself. He wrapped his arms around Stan's neck as the taller teen pulled him into a tight embrace. "_Nngh_, I-I didn't think you were going to come…" He mumbled anxiously biting his lower lip as he closed his eyes and relished Stan's closeness.

"I missed you." The dark haired boy answered truthfully; his voice low as he spoke into Tweek's ear.

The blond couldn't help but shudder at the feeling of Stan's breath against his ear, before they pulled away from their embrace, and shut the door to Tweek's room. It didn't take long for Stan to tug the small blond back into his arms, and press their foreheads together as his long arms wrapped around him. "How are you?" He asked quietly.

"B-Better now…" Tweek responded with a nervous, bashful smile as he sunk further into Stan's warm arms. Leaning down, the blond made a small noise as Stan's lips captured his. He tilted his head toward the warmth radiating from the raven-haired boy's body, and it didn't take long for the kiss to become far more heated.

He missed Craig so much.

Tweek hated to admit it, but as much as he liked Stan… deep down, the blond knew he was trying to find a replacement for his best friend. He'd been so hurt and shocked when Craig had snapped at him; ranting about Tweek; who he was, and finally, calling him the one word he hated: freak.

He had NEVER for one moment thought that Craig, of all people, would call him that. But what was done was done – and Tweek had anxiously convinced himself to move on. After all, if Craig had said those things, then they must be true: it must be how Craig REALLY felt about him.

But still, Tweek felt guilty. He didn't want to be a burden on anyone; he didn't LIKE being so helpless and dependent on others. When he'd started hanging out with Kyle and Stan, he'd tried to find a bit of peace. Both boys were too nice to make fun of Tweek, though Kyle tended to tire of his freak-outs long before Stan did. Cartman made fun of him still, but again, Stan was there to defend the blond. That's where it started. Tweek noticed that Stan began to take the position as his keeper; he would walk with Tweek to school, or sit with him on the bus – he would snap at Cartman if the fatass began to harass the small blond, and he'd even started getting him coffee.

His _new_ Craig.

Their first kiss had been unexpected, but not necessarily unwelcomed. Tweek had to admit he enjoyed it; he liked being with Stan, being held, being kissed and cuddled… he liked feeling safe and loved. When they had started to see one another, the blond couldn't help but notice Craig's disapproval. It even resulted in a fistfight between the two, well built teens. Tweek was disappointed that Craig STILL seemed to so angry – but what could he do? Luckily, neither one was that hurt – but since then, Tweek couldn't help but notice Craig staring at him more and more.

Tweek just thought this meant Craig was going to eventually kill him.

But for now, he felt unnaturally calm. He was here, safe in his room – with Stan.

Sometime during the course of his thoughts, Stan had shifted them over to Tweek's bed, and was hovering over the lithe blond; his knee pressed between Tweek's legs as their bodies pressed together. Tweek moaned out loud, biting his lip as he trembled with the feeling of Stan's soft lips trailing over his jaw and neck.

It was an amazing sensation; but this time, Stan seemed to be taking his time. He drifted his nose and lips lightly around Tweek's skin and head… like he was memorizing and mapping out each curve and feature with his lips. It only made Tweek tremble more, biting his lower lip to suppress any noise that threatened to escape. Stan smiled – and unbuttoned Tweek's shirt. He pushed it aside, and continued mapping Tweek's body with his lips as he traveled down his chest to his stomach.

Tweek inhaled sharply and whimpered as Stan's hands began to undo his jeans. But before he got too far, the tall, dark-haired teen sat back a bit – removing his own shirt and tossing it. Leaning back down, both moaned at the contact of their bare skin connecting. Their lips met again, and Tweek stifled his anxious noises as Stan's tongue parted his lips and began exploring the coffee-flavored cavern of his mouth.

The blond was reduced to a quivering mass when Stan slipped his hand into Tweek's jeans, past his boxers, and to his semi-erect cock. As Tweek moaned and whimpered; thrusting his hips into Stan's hand, the dark-haired teen trailed his tongue hungrily around the blond's jugular – releasing his own moan at the feeling of Tweek's thumping pulse beneath his tongue. He bit down on the skin, sucking roughly on the pale, unmarred area, determined to leave a mark as he continued to fondle his lover.

"S-Stan, please…" Tweek stammered, closing his eyes as he bit his lower lip.

Their eyes met, and the blond found himself met with a fond, affectionate look of devotion.

Nodding slowly, Stan pulled his hand out of Tweek's jeans, and sat back – slowly peeling off the confines restricting the blond. With him now naked, Stan stood up and removed his own jeans and boxers. Tweek couldn't help but admire the way he looked; he'd always had a thing for raven-haired boys. Of course when it came down to it, Tweek never thought he'd be with any other raven-haired boy EXCEPT for Craig. But during their friendship, he'd been constantly torn and confused… sometimes, Craig seemed like he wanted to be _more_ than friends, which only excited Tweek. But other times, Craig had been removed, distant, and angry.

Moaning as he felt Stan move back onto the bed and over him – Tweek convinced himself to push Craig out of his mind. Their lips met in a heated mesh of tongues and teeth as their bodies rubbed against one another. Settling himself between the blond's legs, Stan slowly and teasingly dry humped Tweek against the bed. The smaller teen cried out anxiously, biting on his lower lip as he wrapped his arms around Stan's strong shoulders. Groaning, Stan rubbed his already hard erection – lubing himself with his own pre-cum, before he eagerly thrust into the blond beneath him.

He covered Tweek's mouth with his own hungrily, swallowing the intense cry of pleasure that passed the blond's lips as he adjusted to feeling Stan inside him. They stayed still for a moment – passionately making out while the raven-haired boy stayed still within him.

"P-Please… oh! O-Oh Jesus… _PLEASE_…" Tweek whimpered incoherently against Stan's lips when they parted from the kiss.

An uncontrollable groan escaped the back of Stan's throat, "_Tweek_," He mumbled huskily; like the sound of Tweek begging him to continue was enough to make him cum right then and there.

Slowly, Stan began to thrust into the blond, propping himself up on his arms, which bordered Tweek's shoulders as he lie back on the bed. Tweek's hands slid up into Stan's soft black hair – gripping tightly as they began to move. With each thrust, the speed began to gradually increase, and with it, Tweek's rhythmic, timed moaning. The sound of the desperate blond only made Stan more eager, and before long, he was pounding into the twitchy coffee addict with everything he had.

Tweek's throat began to crack and go hoarse with the screams that flew past his lips. He'd never felt anything like this; he and Stan had only slept together _once_ before… and it was pretty good.

But THIS was just amazing; it was a whole other level. For the first time, Tweek felt completely connected to the teen on top of him. He felt right.

He felt complete.

The blond thrashed his head from side to side on his pillow, when Stan grabbed the blond's cock, and began stroking it with renowned fervor – while he continued to thrust into him.

When they both climaxed, Stan slowly and reluctantly slid out of Tweek with a groan. But he didn't move aside. Instead, he lowered his head to lightly and tenderly place kisses on Tweek's swollen lips… drifting slowly along his flushed cheeks and forehead. Tweek slowly unlatched his grip from Stan's dark hair, and slid his hands along the shoulders of the teen as both relaxed in the afterglow of their passion.

"Tweek," Stan whispered; the mere sound of his voice forcing the blond teen to gaze up into his eyes. He looked so serious; so focused as his lips parted, and he uttered those three words that Tweek NEVER thought he'd hear someone say to him: "I love you." He said quietly. He trembled as he felt Stan's hand cup his head into his hands, making sure to keep Tweek's eyes on him as he repeated himself. "I _love_ you." He repeated.

The blond's large hazel eyes filled with happy tears, and a smile grew on his lips.

"R-Really?" He stammered. Stan nodded, as he lowered his nose to nestle against the blond's.

Tweek's eyes gently drifted over the face above him; the face he'd come to know so well. Reaching up, the blond gently drifted a single finger over Stan's lips. The dark-haired boy sighed contently, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the feeling of Tweek lightly stroking his mouth.

But it wasn't too long before Stan slid out of bed, and began to re-dress. "W-Where are you -nngh- going?" Tweek asked hurtfully.

"I'm sorry," Stan mumbled; keeping his eyes down in shame. "I can't stay. I've got a test tomorrow." He said.

The blond suspected that THAT was a lie, but said nothing. He just bit on his lower lip timidly, watching Stan get re-dressed, before the tall, dark-haired teen moved to the door. He stopped then, turning to look back at Tweek, who still sat naked beneath his sheets; his hair beautifully disheveled. Stan lowered his eyes sadly again, before slipping out and closing the door behind him. Why had Stan's mood changed? Did he regret what they'd just done?

Half an hour had passed when his cell phone vibrated beside his bed. Tweek made a small noise; he must have gotten lost in his thoughts, because he was still lying in his bed, naked beneath the sheets as he thought about Stan. Reaching over, he tentatively picked it up - bringing it to his ear.

"H-Hello?" Tweek answered.

_"Hey, it's Stan." The voice on the other end said. _

The blond made a small, eager noise. Maybe he was calling to say he was going to come back.

_"I'm sorry, but… I won't be able to make it tonight. Something came up…" He apologized._

He sounded guilty.

"W-What?" Tweek asked, confusion flowing over his face.

_"I can't make it. I'm sorry." Stan repeated, apologizing. "But we can hang out tomorrow."_

Tweek just sat there with a dropped expression.

"Y-You... I-I just... _nngh_!" The blond stammered anxiously, his mind racing with paranoid thought after paranoid thought.

_But Stan interrupted. "I'll make it up to you, promise." He reassured him. "See you tomorrow, Tweek."_

He hung up then.

Standing up, Tweek dropped his phone and got dressed quickly. He'd never been more confused. Maybe Stan had amnesia; maybe on his way home, he'd slipped and hit his head - and now, he didn't remember fucking Tweek an hour ago. While a string of these questions and theories races through his mind, Tweek noticed something on his floor; it was Stan's hat. Picking it up and furrowing his brow, the blond examined it.

Stan NEVER left his hat behind; it was like, the equivalent of Tweek and his thermos - it was a necessity.

And then it hit him.

Lightning struck, and the revelation rendered Tweek breathless...

"...C-Craig..." He whispered to himself.

* * *

**OOC:** Was it predictable? Yes no? lol I just felt like writing it xD I can't help but wonder if there's more potential, so let me know: would you like to see the aftermath? A continued one-shot? Or is that ending good enough? Would you rather leave the aftermath to your own imagination? xD


	9. That One Word Pt 2 :: Creek

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD… like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings: **Multiple!

**Summary: **This is just a series of one-shots… I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, etc).

**Notes I: **There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II :** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics… I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE – I'd like your opinions as well… so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know!

**Notes III:** WOOT … all the usual, smut, fluff, romance, angst, hurt, friendship, etc.

* * *

**Pairing:** Craig/Tweek

**Shot-Theme: **Six Underground – by – The Sneaker Pimps

SOOOO this is part 2 of the previous chapter - "That One Word" … because for some reason, a lot of people want to know the aftermath xD lol I gotta admit, the previous chapter is one of my faves, so I have no problem writing a follow up.

I hope everyone enjoys! Lol If you haven't read the first, you should, and then this one will make sense.

* * *

Tweek hadn't slept at all that night.

He KNEW something had been off about the 'Stan' that had appeared at his bedroom door. First of all, he'd been much calmer and not as energetic. While he liked Stan, he had to admit, the teen had a tendency to ramble. Secondly, the first (and only time) that he and Stan had sex, it wasn't nearly as passionate and was over much quicker. Not that it had been 'bad'… Tweek HAD enjoyed himself. But last night was a whole other experience entirely.

The twitchy blond had spent half the night tapping himself eagerly on the head, trying to remember why he hadn't noticed the different color of Stan's eyes. They were a rather prominent ocean blue color… but the eyes last night had been more of an icy blue-gray. Why hadn't he noticed? Or was it Craig's eyes who were ocean blue, and Stan who had the icy-blue?

"_Ack_! Pressure!" He mumbled to himself, biting his lower lip and making a sound. He wished he were better at remembering these things. He was kind of disappointed in himself; shouldn't he know the color of his best friend's eyes? Or his boyfriend's eyes?

Normally, the paranoid blond was the FIRST person to speak up if something wasn't right. But Tweek didn't think HE was to blame, since he was not really in his right mind while he was getting his brains fucked out. The blond had been so concentrated on the pleasure Stan was giving him than to notice the color of his eyes.

Er, correction… the pleasure CRAIG had been giving him.

It made him feel so conflicted inside. He'd been so hurt by Craig's slip of tongue when he'd called him a freak. But the more he'd thought about it, the more he remembered people telling him that Craig had been particularly agitated that day. Of course, Tweek was never given the opportunity to ask Craig what might have been wrong, before Craig turned on him for accidentally spilling his coffee on him.

His best friend: the ebony-haired boy who had always cared for him – snapped at him, and called him a freak. It had stung, and in the hopes of distancing himself, he'd begun to hang out with Stan and Kyle's group.

But why would Craig pretend to be Stan? And WHY would he go so far to actually SLEEP with him? It had been so passionate, and nothing like he'd ever experienced… but Tweek knew if he had _known_ that it was Craig, and not Stan, maybe he would have tried harder, or put more of himself into it. He would have made Craig stay the night, instead of letting him go when he'd gotten dressed and slipped out.

No wonder 'Stan' had looked so guilty and forlorn when he left Tweek's room afterward.

Tweek met Stan at the bus stop; they sat together on the bus and Stan chatted on to him… but the blond's head was elsewhere. What would he do when he saw Craig? Should he approach him? Should he just pretend like he DIDN'T figure it out? Obviously, his theory was correct, because even sitting on the bus with Stan, he noticed the dark-haired teen had his hat on.

And Tweek had the hat 'Stan' had left in his room in his bag.

When they finally got to school and wandered inside, Tweek felt his cheeks flushing with heat as the anticipation grew. Kyle and Stan were talking quietly between one another, while Tweek walked beside them, holding hands with his dark-haired boyfriend; completely oblivious to anything other than his own thoughts.

Reaching their lockers, Tweek split off to go to his own locker – which consequently, was beside Craig's. But when he got there, the excitement in his stomach died upon noticing that the ebony-haired loner wasn't there.

Tweek bit his lower lip and stared at Craig's locker intensely for a few moments…

* * *

He got to school late.

Craig hadn't slept well. He couldn't stop thinking about tricking Tweek into thinking he was Stan. It had been a low move… but he didn't regret it for ONE second. That 'low' move had given him everything he'd ever wanted. He'd gotten to be with Tweek; he had been able to touch him, hold him, kiss him, lick him, mark him, and fuck him. It had been the best experience of his life… the one that had made him feel most alive.

And feeling 'alive' was a rare occurrence for the reserved Craig Tucker.

It took a lot of courage for him to actually GO to school; hell, it was part of the reason he was late. He made sure to linger before actually reaching the school – after the first bell, so everyone would be in class by the time he got to his locker.

Frankly, he didn't think he could bear seeing Tweek with Stan. Leaving his room the previous night had been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. He'd wanted to stay… he'd wanted to grab the twitchy blond and tell him WHO he really was – and admit _every _single feeling he had for him. He wanted to apologize again and again for calling him a 'freak' – and he wanted to demand that the blond leave Stan, and start seeing him.

That's how it was SUPPOSED to be. Tweek was supposed to be his.

Craig just knew it.

Reaching his locker, he spun his combination and clicked open the lock. God this was going to be a hard day.

But to his surprise, there was something IN his locker, staring him right in the face on the top shelf.

A hat.

Unfortunately, it wasn't _his_. He'd accidentally left his chullo in his locker the other day, when a teacher bitched at him for wearing it in class. After his fight with Stan, and with mind being so focused on Tweek… he'd forgotten it. Walking to school WITHOUT his hat had annoyed the ebony-haired teen; he almost felt naked without it.

Taking the clump of wool fabric out of the locker, his brow furrowed as he examined it.

Then, his expression fell into a look of fear.

It was Stan's hat. Rather, the duplicate of Stan's hat that he'd worn to Tweek's last night when he'd disguised himself as 'Stan'.

_Shit. Shit, shit shit!_ Craig immediately thought.

He'd left it at Tweek's, and hadn't even noticed. Obviously, a stupid looking HAT wasn't on his mind after fucking the brains out of the twitchy blond he desired so much. How the hell did he figure out that it had been Craig? During the whole process, Tweek didn't seem to give any indication that he knew who Craig REALLY was. But maybe the hat was the key? Or maybe Tweek knew, and _wanted_ to sleep with him?

He had so many questions – and for once, he regretted coming to school late. If he'd been on time, maybe Tweek would have said something instead of just leaving this teasing hat in his locker. His heart thumped loudly in his chest… this could give him everything he wanted – or he could lose it.

* * *

While they continued their classes, Tweek and Craig stayed away from one another physically… but their eyes, however, were almost constantly connected. The contact was never for very long, because whenever the blond tried to sneak a glance toward Craig, the ebony-haired teen was already looking at him intensely. Being who he was, Tweek couldn't help but blush and look away before twitching rapidly.

Stan, however, couldn't help but notice how distracted Tweek seemed to be, and continued to ask the twitchy blond what was wrong. He noticed Craig staring at Tweek rather heatedly, and in his own amusement, began to comfort Tweek affectionately. He would put his arm around Tweek, whisper into his ear, and rest his hand on his thigh. Naturally, Craig reacted by shooting Stan a possessive scowl. In Stan's mind, it served him right for gawking at his new boyfriend.

Feeling the tension building more as the day went on – Tweek anxiously ventured into the bathroom to get some solitude away from the whole, confusion situation. Standing in front of the mirror trembling, Tweek looked at himself.

How the hell did he get into this? Three weeks ago, he was just a thin blond, who couldn't control his shaking – was addicted to coffee – and was considered one of the weirdest kids to ever grace Park County High. Now, he had a boyfriend who was the quarterback for the football team, popular and good looking… while still pining after his loner, temperamental best friend, who had essentially TRICKED him into sleeping with him.

"_ARG_!" Tweek exclaimed as he saw another reflection come in the mirror.

It was Stan.

Or rather, it was a dark-haired boy, wearing a toque like Stan's. He smiled gently at Tweek. "You ok?" He asked.

"T-That depends!" The blond stammered. "_Nngh_! W-Which one are you?"

The teen raised a brow. "...What do you mean?" He asked calmly, taking a few steps toward Tweek.

"_Gah_! Pressure!" The twitchy blond screamed, tugging anxiously on his jagged blond hair. "Y-You could be Stan… o-or you could –_nngh_- be Craig!"

The dark-haired boy smiled. "Don't you remember what I was wearing this morning?" He asked curiously, leaning against the bathroom wall. His knowing eyes flickered back to Tweek.

"I-I… um… _nngh_," The blond boy stammered, covering one hand over his mouth, while his other stayed latched onto a chunk of his blond hair. Tweek's hazel eyes shifted back and forth in rapid thought. "I-I… I don't remember!" He admitted quickly – looking like he'd just committed a crime. "Oh God I don't remember? _Argh_! Why can't I remember these things?" He began to rant. He got that paranoid glint in his eye before he continued. "W-What if I have selected amnesia! What if this whole thing –_nngh_- has triggered some kind of backlash? What if I'm blocking things out? _Gah_! W-What if I _never_ figure out WHO is WHO?"

The dark-haired teen looked at him, and heaved a heavy sigh as his tongue licked his lower lip. Tweek couldn't tell if it was a frustrated one… or an aroused one.

Oddly enough, he got the impression maybe it was BOTH.

...Unfortunately, it didn't make things any clearer.

Looking up, he timidly stared at the dark-haired boy, full of confusion… and utter humiliation. He was a_ lousy_ excuse for a human being. He'd gotten so caught up in this mess, that he struggled to tell his best friend apart from his new boyfriend.

The dark-haired teen seemed to catch that sense of 'discouraged hopelessness' Tweek was feeling – and within a second, closed the distance between him and the blond. Wrapping his arms around him, he kissed Tweek deeply - pressing him up against his chest. Tweek simply evaporated into that kiss… it was comforting, it was warm, it was familiar. It was everything he wanted.

THIS boy was everything he wanted.

Slowly, the two pulled back, keeping their faces inches apart as they slowly opened their eyes. The dark haired teen stared at Tweek intensely, despite his eyes being a bit clouded by lust.

"I-I… _nngh_," Tweek stammered quietly; his finger came up, and gently traced the soft lips of this dark-haired teen. The other gave a soft moan; almost non-existent… but Tweek still heard it. "I-I… like you better with –_nngh_- … your chullo…" The blond finally said.

The dark-haired boy stared at him blankly for a few minutes – his brow furrowing. Tweek looked a bit confused, but soon, he began to twitch as he saw the eyes of the other beginning to well up with tears.

Suddenly, fear struck Tweek; oh god… this was Stan. He'd guessed _wrong_.

"Tweek…" The dark haired boy growled.

The blond made a small noise, and was almost prepared to get yelled at; but instead, he was kissed – _again_ – even more deeply than before.

Tweek moaned, as he was pulled closer to the taller boy and wrapped once more in his arms. When the kiss finally ended, the spastic teen slowly opened his eyes to see the dark-haired boy's eyes STILL glossy… but he had a small smile on his lips.

"I'm sorry." He apologized quietly; his smile faltered a bit, and his beautiful eyes seemed to show deep remorse for everything that had happened.

Tweek made another small noise, before he nestled his nose gently against Craig's. "I-I'm… _nngh_, not." He said comfortingly, offering his own small smile. If Tweek had to be called a 'freak' in order for THIS to happen... then he accepted it.

Smiling, Craig captured Tweek's lips in another kiss, running his hands down Tweek's lithe torso, before resting them around his back – while Tweek's hands slid up into Craig's hair… pushing the 'Stan' toque off his head.

It fell softly to the bathroom floor with a 'thump' ... and was forgotten.

"Now…" Craig moaned, teasingly biting Tweek's lower lip gently between his teeth. "Go break up with that faggot, Marsh." He ordered huskily. "Then come back here… and I'll fuck your brains out. Again." He purred.

Fuck in the school bathroom? Break up with Stan RIGHT now? ... How the hell was he supposed to do that?

Tweek made a louder, anxious noise; a heavy blush crept across his cheeks. "B-But…" He stammered. "I-I… _nngh_… w-we… BUT…" He blabbered, getting more agitated by the second as he tried to find the right words.

"You're right… you're right." Craig sighed, nodding to the twitching blond supportively. Tweek let out a small sigh of relief – believing that Craig understood him, despite his inability to get the words out.

But instead, he squeaked as Craig pushed him back against the bathroom wall – hoisting him up, so Tweek had no choice but to latch his legs around Craig's waist, and hold on for dear life.

"I'll fuck you FIRST…" He groaned, rubbing his hips against Tweek's as he trailed his tongue across his jaw. "THEN… you can break up with Marsh." He mused.

An anxious, worried…

...and _excited_ noise passed Tweek's lips.

END

* * *

ooc: THERE! lol Now you know :P I'm such a sucker for happy endings. And to wrap up any other loose ends - let's just say, Stan was fucking Kyle on the side, and that's why he had to 'cancel' his plans with Tweek in the first place, the night Tweek/CraigAsStan had sex lol :P .... eeeeeeeeveryone's happy.


	10. Get Used To Being Wrong :: Cryle

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD… like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings: **Multiple!

**Summary: **This is just a series of one-shots… I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, Espresso Con Panna, etc).

**Notes I: **There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II :** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics… I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE – I'd like your opinions as well… so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know J

**Notes III:** WOOT … all the usual, smut, fluff, romance, angst, hurt, friendship, etc.

* * *

**Pairings:** Kyle/Craig

**Shot-Theme: **Miss Misery – by – Elliot Smith

Haha for some reason was inspired to write this pairing xD – I still like Craig/Tweek better, I think… but hell, I'm all for giving other pairings another shot xD

He was never going to feel the same. Kyle knew he'd have to accept that… eventually.

* * *

They were in their first year at Park County University. A few of their old friends had gone elsewhere; Token had ended up going to Harvard with Wendy, and Cartman moved to Denver to follow a degree in criminal defense law; hell, he was so good at getting HIMSELF out of trouble, he figured he might as well make a lot of money doing it for other people. It was kind of morally disgusting, but that was Cartman.

Everyone else had opted for staying in South Park to attend its local County University. Kyle had a chance to go to several other universities, but opted to stay in South Park for one specific reason. Stan Marsh. Kyle had come out in their last year of high school. Some people were kind of shocked, but widely, he was still accepted, and it didn't seem to change anything. Butters, for example, had been out since their first year in high school – and Kenny was a known, 'well-practiced' bisexual. In fact, he'd willingly given Kyle his first blowjob, and taught him the ropes. Kyle had been grateful that the two had remained friends, and Kenny kept his word; he didn't tell anyone.

But it was on their graduation night – during a grad party at Token's house – that Kyle told Stan how he felt about him; that their friendship meant a lot, but he'd been harboring a deep love for the raven-haired boy for quite some time. Stan was flattered, but admitted he wasn't gay, and unfortunately, didn't feel the same way. Kyle had been heartbroken; he'd worked himself up to believe that Stan MIGHT feel the same way. Sometimes when he looked at him, Kyle caught something in his eyes. He hadn't been dating Wendy for a few years, since she'd re-connected with Token. The night had been a complete failure… but as always, the two super-best friends had managed to pull through it, and remain friends.

Of course it was much harder for Kyle. He couldn't stop thinking about Stan, and the snap decision to attend Park County University with him seemed to indicate his feelings weren't gone; especially when his grades afforded him the opportunity to attend Harvard, or even Oxford (if he felt like moving THAT far away). His mother had been sorely disappointed, but was subdued by Gerald – who told her that Kyle was old enough now to make his own decisions.

The redhead moved out of his house during the summer – and into a place with Stan and Kenny. While Kenny couldn't afford to go to university, he ended up taking a maintenance job on the campus; so he would be able to see his friends regularly, and pay his smaller share of the rent. Not to mention, it afforded him the opportunity to sneak into lecture halls, and sit in on some classes with his friends. It was a bit devious, but Kyle was all about education, and was proud that Kenny was trying so hard to take what he could… even if he WASN'T an actual student, and wouldn't obtain an 'actual' degree.

The first few months had been a bit hard; Kyle found it difficult living in such close proximity to the young man he'd loved for so many years. Hell, even catching a glimpse of Stan as he walked out of the bathroom after a shower, with nothing but a towel draped around his waist was enough to made Kyle anxious.

During their first two months at University, everyone seemed to be adjusting, and enjoying their new found independence away from their parents. By the time Halloween rolled around, Stan and Kenny offered to host a Halloween Party at their house. When the 31st came, Kenny used his fake ID to grab some booze for the party. Thank God Halloween fell on a Friday that year; they all hoped it would be a fun night, and thankfully, they had no lectures to go to the next day.

"What do you think?" Kenny asked, wandering into the living room.

Kyle was sitting on the couch, surfing through the channels on their television as he looked up to Kenny's costume. He'd decided to dress up like some kind of zombie; truth be told, the costume was actually pretty good… he even had half a beer bottle protruding from his forehead with blood around it. He was wearing a slightly ripped t-shirt and jeans, both of which had bloodstains on them and looked disheveled.

"Actually… it looks great." Kyle smirked.

While he'd never come to 'love' Kenny, Kyle could certainly appreciate the McCormick boy's attractiveness. He was tall and built with lean muscle, but it was his face that proved to be most breathtaking. His eyes were a bright blue color, always looking slightly mischievous and all knowing, and his blond hair hung in jagged chunks around his head, falling slightly in front of his eyes sometimes. He also had a Cheshire Cat grin that made most people melt. Looking at him only made Kyle wonder why he'd chosen to hide his face for so long. It was only after they'd started high school that Kenny started to show more of his face (except when his hair covered his eyes, or he wore a large hoodie)… but Kyle figured that was just to keep his 'playful boy' vibe down. And it worked. Kenny had gotten more action than all their friends put together.

"Looks great? Like how?" Kenny asked, striking a pose. "Like, attractive-great? Or fuckable-great?" He smirked.

Kyle laughed and shook his head, "Let's just go with both. Who are you trying to impress tonight?" He asked.

"No one in particular." He purred, walking over and plopping onto the couch beside Kyle. Throwing an arm over the back of their sofa (and thus, around Kyle's shoulders) – Kenny shifted closer to him. "Who are YOU trying to impress tonight?" He asked knowingly.

The redhead blushed a bit, "N-No one." He sighed. "There's no point. Come on, you've seen him. He just doesn't feel THAT way about me." He shrugged.

"Well, maybe when he sees you in your hot Mad Hatter costume, he'll come around. And even if he doesn't... there will be others." Kenny grinned, placing a quick peck on Kyle's cheek with his lips, before standing up and heading into the kitchen. "You better get dressed…" He called.

Kyle rolled his eyes and stood up, tossing the converter onto the couch as he headed into his room to get ready. Shutting the door behind him, Kyle began to shed his clothing and get into his own costume. Since their youth, Kyle had grown up; he was taller now (though still a bit shorter than Stan, Kenny, and most of their other friends) – and wasn't nearly AS scrawny. He'd kept up with playing basketball and running track and field during high school, so he was built similar to most of their friends now. His Jew fro had grown out, and now his hair fell in loose auburn waves around his head; at times, obstructing his green eyes, but that was fixed with a slight gesture of his head to flick the hair away; it had become a bit of a habit. Really, all things considering, Kyle didn't think he was BAD looking… and Kenny had certainly reassured him of that fact.

Unfortunately, it didn't matter – because the one person he wanted to THINK he was good looking _wasn't_ gay. Then again, Kyle couldn't help but belittle himself a bit in thinking that IF Stan WERE gay… why the hell would he want him? Stan was an attractive, dark-haired athlete, who could get any girl he wanted. And if he swung the 'other' way, he could probably get any guy he wanted.

Forcing those thoughts out of his head, Kyle began to get dressed into his costume. He had decided to go as the Mad Hatter, but not necessarily taking inspiration from the new Tim Burton adaptation of Alice In Wonderland. Frankly, he hadn't found it THAT great… but he really liked the character. He'd gotten an obscure top hat that looked a bit raggedy, and paired it with a coat-tailed jacked that hugged to his torso. It too, was a bit frayed in places and was dark green in it's color. This was paired with a loud-colored, patterned button up shirt that he had disheveled himself, sewing a few patches on it in random, obscure places. He'd even stuck a pocket watch in the shirt's front pocket, and ANOTHER one clipped onto the pocket of his tailed jacket. He enjoyed adding the little details. Finally, he wore black pants that hugged his slender legs, and fell past his shins – only to be covered by worn, maroon doc martin boots that laced up just below his knees. He left them loose and unlaced though, preferring to keep the 'raggedy' Hatter appearance.

Moving over to his mirror, he examined himself as he began to put a few obscure bandages and rings on his fingers. Letting out a sigh, he took himself in. Really, he didn't look half bad. He was certainly the Mad Hatter – but his OWN version of the Mad Hatter. Leaving his room, Kyle had to quickly stop himself from running right into Stan, who again, was emerging from the bathroom in nothing but a towel.

"Oh, hey!" Stan greeted with a small laugh. "Wow, you look great!" He said, nodding, as he looked him up and down.

Kyle nodded, trying desperately to keep himself from blushing. "Thanks." He said. "Excited for tonight?"

"Yeah, it should be a lot of fun." Stan smiled. "I'm a sucker for Halloween."

The redhead nodded, adjusting his top hat a bit. "Yeah… if there's one thing I love, it's pretending to be someone ELSE for a night." He shrugged, giving a sad smile.

Stan caught the tone, and furrowed his brow. Kyle knew Stan had felt incredibly guilty for not feeling the same way his best friend did. He'd been trying hard to make it up to Kyle by being an even MORE supportive friend. He looked like he was about to say something – like a small comment to boost Kyle's morale, but they were interrupted.

"Come on, Kyle… I wanna do your makeup before I have another beer." Kenny shouted impatiently from the kitchen. "Otherwise I'll be too wasted." He grumbled.

Kyle smirked and shrugged at Stan, as he slipped by him. He could hear Stan turn, and the blush crept onto his cheeks as he felt his best friend's eyes on him as he retreated into the kitchen.

It was moments like THAT, which got Kyle's hopes up.

But he had to remind himself that's all it was.

Hope.

* * *

Everyone seemed to arrive to their party in good time – and in good spirits. Then again, an excuse to drink and dress up like freaks tended to bring out the best in everyone. Stan was dressed up too; he was wearing a tuxedo that was dirty and bloody. He had a slit wound over his throat that was bloody, and he carried around a skeleton hand, that had a wedding ring on it. Apparently, it was some kind of warped joke about marriage. It was kind of a cop out, but hell, Kyle STILL thought he looked hot.

Craig, Butters and Clyde arrived soon after. The brunette had opted for dressing in some kind of gumbie costume; it was ridiculous and oversized, but made everyone laugh – which was exactly what he was going for. Butters, to no one's surprise, had simply decided to go as his alter ego, Marjorine. And frankly, the kid looked adorable; Kyle practically saw Kenny's eyes fix on the blond with a predatory smirk.

And then there was Craig; the ebony-haired boy wandered in casually, nodding in silent greeting like he always did. He had on his usual dark blue hoodie that clung to his toned, tall form. This was topped off with ripped jeans – and oddly enough, a long fluffy cat-like tail, and bit floppy cat ears that rested on his usual chullo. His dark hair was sticking out jaggedly beneath his hat, falling along the back of his neck, ears and across his forehead. But when he looked at his eyes, he saw they weren't his usual gray color… they were bright yellow, with black slits. Cat eyes.

Before he had a chance to approach Craig and ask him about his 'half' costume – Kenny tugged Kyle aside. "Ok, _don't_ be mad." He grinned.

"Mad at what?" Kyle asked suspiciously.

Kenny glanced back to Craig, and gave a slight gesture with his head. "He'd called me yesterday and asked what _you_ were going as for Halloween. So I told him." Kenny explained. "He wasn't _going_ to dress up, but when I told him that you were going as the Mad Hatter, that asshole made a half hearted attempt to dress up like the Cheshire Cat." He smirked.

"…Why?" Kyle asked, furrowing his brow. "Craig and I aren't THAT close. Why the hell would he care what I'm going as?" He asked.

Kenny shrugged, smirking with that mischievous glint in his eye. "Hi Craig." He greeted, ignoring Kyle's comment.

Turning, the redhead saw Craig was standing behind them now. "Hey." He greeted in that calm, monotone voice of his. "Nice costumes." He complimented – his eyes running over Kyle moreso than Kenny.

"Um, thanks." Kyle blushed. "You look good too… I mean, for a half-assed attempt." He teased with a shrug.

Craig actually smiled, his cat-like eyes trailing over Kyle's face. "I'm you're Cheshire Cat for the night." He purred. "Guess that means we have to stay close to one another." He shrugged.

"Whatever…" Kyle said, shaking his head with a small smile; but really, he couldn't keep the blush from reaching his cheeks… not this time. When his green eyes flickered back to Craig, he felt even more anxious to see the attractive noir-haired young man smirking at him.

Kenny couldn't help but grin, "I'm going to get another beer. Anyone else want one?" He asked.

"Yeah, actually, I'll come WITH you." Kyle said, narrowing his eyes on the mischievous blond – before tugging his arm and pulling him toward the kitchen.

When they were alone again, Kyle sighed, "What the hell, man? What are you trying to do to me?" He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The blond shook his head, holding up his hands, "I'm not trying to do ANYTHING but help." He smiled. "Don't ask me why… but Craig likes you." He shrugged. "And that's all I know. Hell, the guy is so damn vague, moody and quiet – that's the best answer you'll get. He just… _likes_ you." Kenny nodded, quirking a brow. "And come on, it's not like you have any _other_ prospects right now. Why not test the waters?" He smirked.

"I… I dunno," Kyle shrugged, cracking open a beer.

Kenny sighed. "Don't you think he's good looking? I thought tall, attractive black-haired boys were your type." He grinned, nudging his friend.

"I didn't say he _wasn't_," Kyle corrected, glancing toward Kenny. "I just… don't know why he'd suddenly have such an interest in me." He mumbled.

But another voice, which did NOT belong to Kenny, spoke up. "Got a problem with it?" Craig asked lazily – his cat-like eyes staring at the redhead intensely.

Turning, Kyle anxiously looked up to see the tall raven-haired boy standing behind him. He pulled his eyes away as yet another blush threatened to flood his cheeks.

"W-Well… no," He finally mumbled, shrugging as he played with the sleeve of his Hatter jacket.

Looking up, he noticed Kenny slipping out of the kitchen and back into the living room – leaving the two alone.

Kyle felt more anxious now, and found himself unable to look into Craig's eyes. He was kind of relieved when Craig finally spoke, "I need a cigarette. Come outside." He said.

It wasn't really a question – it was more of an order.

"Please?" Kyle grumbled, looking up toward Craig a bit defiantly.

The raven-haired boy turned and looked back at him, with some confusion and stubbornness written across his features. He wasn't used to ASKING people to do anything; Kyle figured it was because he'd hung around Tweek and Clyde for so long, and had them wrapped around his finger. But since Tweek had been admitted to the Park County Mental Institution… Craig had been looking for a replacement.

"Please." The raven-haired young man said quietly; his eyes rolling slightly, like it pained him to have to use the word.

Shooting Craig a slight glare, Kyle reluctantly followed him out the back kitchen door, and onto their small porch. It was dark outside now, and their back porch light had been burned out for a while. Kyle made a mental note to himself to put a new light bulb in there the next day.

His green eyes pulled away from the broken porch light, and moved back to Craig as he casually lit a cigarette and began to smoke. "Take a seat." He said, flicking his eyes to the porch step.

"No thanks." Kyle mumbled, shifting on his feet a bit uncomfortably.

To his surprise, Craig smiled. "Do I make you uncomfortable?" He asked calmly; a hint of pretension lingering in his voice.

Kyle narrowed his eyes slightly; he knew Craig was an asshole – he'd had that 'badass' reputation ever since they were children. He'd been in countless fights, and to Kyle's knowledge, had won every single one. He was quiet and moody, and loved to flip people off. That being said, Craig also had this air of confidence about him… like, he knew he was good looking. He was the 'rebel without a cause' that people tended to swoon over; the kind of guy that was bad for you.

And he knew it.

"No." The redhead answered. "This is just… weird." He shrugged. "You've never really given me the time of day – we barely speak, and then you show up in a lame attempt to be the Cheshire Cat." He mumbled, shaking his head. "I just don't get it. Why?"

Craig shrugged calmly, and continued to smoke as his bright yellow eyes focused on Kyle. "Kenny mentioned you've been a bit down lately. Your fag crush on Stan isn't going as you planned, and that asshole still hasn't come around." He said.

"Stan's NOT an asshole." Kyle snapped coldly.

But Craig ignored him and kept talking. "I just… like you." He shrugged, like the comment was no big deal. "It's not _my_ fault that _you_ never noticed." Craig smirked. "You were always too wrapped up in the WRONG person." He said.

"Fuck you." Kyle mumbled, leaning against the wall of his house.

Looking up to Craig, he saw a smile on his face; with his half-costume in place and those alluring, cat-contacts… Kyle had to inwardly admit, he fit the role of the Cheshire Cat well; he had a confidence that was intriguing, to say the least. In fact, the smile he had now made Kyle repress a small shudder that crept down his spine.

Flicking his cigarette away, Craig took a few steps toward Kyle, and planted himself in front of the redhead; looking down at him with hooded eyes. "Am I not your type?" He asked.

"I don't really consider temperamental, anti-social assholes MY type." Kyle said distastefully, keeping his eyes away from Craig's. He knew if he looked up he'd blush; the redhead wasn't used to being pursued… by ANYONE.

Craig kept his eyes focused on him, "Nice to know _that's_ how you see me." He smirked. "Just because I worked hard to get that reputation, doesn't mean that's all there is to me." He shrugged. "I didn't expect you to be this shallow."

"Me?" Kyle snapped, turning his vibrant green eyes up toward Craig – who was still smirking at him. "You're the one who started fights with people just b—" He began.

But he was silenced as Craig lifted a finger, and placed it over his lips. "You have _no_ idea why I start fights. No one does." He said calmly, his voice deep and soothing. "Half the time I was protecting Tweek… or Clyde. Even Butters and Pip on a few occasions." He mumbled. "I just never bothered to correct anyone when they assumed I fought just for the fun of it."

Kyle lowered his eyes a bit. All right, he HADN'T expected that – but still, it was hard for him to believe it. He felt a slight heat rise in his cheeks again, as he felt Craig's finger gently slide down from his lips, to rest beneath his chin, tilting the redhead's face back up to meet his own.

He could feel Craig leaning forward – like he was going to kiss him. But Kyle's anxiety and nervousness crept up on him, and before he knew it, he was blurting out: "I'm not going to be some replacement for Tweek." He admitted.

Craig paused and kept his eyes focused on Kyle. It was hard to read Craig's eyes with those damned yellow cat-contacts in, and frankly, the silence unnerved Kyle.

"You're _nothing_ like Tweek." Craig mumbled with a smirk. "You're not a pushover. And you don't need anyone to take care of you twenty-four seven." He commented. "Maybe part of the _reason _I like you is because you're so damned resistant, stubborn and pretentious." He grinned.

Kyle narrowed his eyes; HE was pretentious? HE was stubborn and defensive? That sounded more like Craig than him. "That's _bullshit_." Kyle snapped. "I'm not pre—"

But he was silenced when Craig's lips finally claimed his own in a deep kiss. Kyle moaned, and moved his hands to the ebony-haired boy's chest to try and push him away… but instead, Craig grabbed his wrists and pinned them up against the wall on either side of his head. He moved his body closer, and pressed himself against Kyle's slightly smaller form as he prodded the redhead's mouth with his tongue.

Despite his mind screaming in protest – Kyle couldn't deny that it felt good; his body was betraying him in the worst way, and when he felt Craig's hips roll against his own, Kyle moaned again, parting his lips and finally allowing the Cheshire Cat's tongue to dominate his own.

"Kyle?" A voice snapped from the doorway.

Pulling back, both boys looked over to see Stan standing there – a shocked, and angry expression on his face. "U-Uh…" Kyle stammered; his head still dizzy from the passionate make out session he'd just been involved in. To his surprise, Craig didn't budge from their close proximity; he seemed to be smirking as he looked at Stan – while he kept his body pressed against Kyle, and his hands around his wrists.

"Get the fuck off him, Craig." Stan growled, taking a step toward them.

Craig smirked, looking to Stan challengingly. "I wasn't aware he belonged to YOU, Stan." He sneered. "So why don't you fuck off back inside? You're interrupting."

"I said get the _fuck_ off him," Stan repeated, hissing as he took another step forward.

Kyle wiggled his wrists out of Craig's grasp, and pushed away from the ebony-haired boy. "Enough!" He snapped, moving to stand between the both of them.

Stan and Craig didn't look at Kyle; they just kept their eyes on one another.

Finally, Kyle felt Stan slip his hand into his own, and tug him back inside the house – past the kitchen, upstairs, and into his room. The sounds of the party could be heard from downstairs as they finally stopped, and his best friend turned to face him.

"What the hell are you doing?" He snapped. "You're already wasted enough to make out with THAT asshole?" Stan asked distastefully.

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "I'm NOT wasted." He sighed. "And what suddenly crawled up _your_ ass?" He asked.

"Kyle, you're about as close to Craig as I am. Why the fuck would you think it's a good idea to let him suck your face off?" Stan growled.

The redhead huffed out a quick, angry breath, "Well considering no one ELSE is interested in sucking my face off… I didn't think it would be a problem." He shot back.

"You can do better than CRAIG, Kyle." Stan sneered, crossing his arms and staring at his best friend strongly. "You don't need to stoop down to his level."

For some reason, something snapped in Kyle then, "Cut him a break, he's not THAT bad." He defended. It was kind of odd; in fact, the comment made Stan quirk a brow, and it even took Kyle by surprise. Why he suddenly felt the need to defend Craig to his BEST friend was beyond him.

"Whatever." Stan mumbled. "Just don't be a lovesick idiot and fall for his stupid act. He's just using you for an easy fuck. Since Tweek was admitted to the mental institution, he's probably just horny and desperate." He said.

Kyle's face fell, and a flash of hurt crossed it. "So, the only reason ANYONE would come onto _me_ – is because they're _desperate_?" He repeated dully.

"N-No… that's not what I meant." Stan apologized, his face dropping a bit when he realized what he'd said.

The two stood there in silence for a few minutes, before Kyle pushed passed Stan, and headed out of his bedroom. He walked back downstairs, in more of a foul mood than he'd been before. Great. So now, he was pathetic; he was hurt that Stan would degrade him like that. While Kyle had started out the evening thinking he wasn't BAD looking… now, he felt fucking hideous. Maybe if he had a killer body and attractive features like Stan, Craig, or Kenny – he'd be a more confident person. Kyle's confidence came from his intelligence, which, he could say was high.

But not many people found the prospect of 'having brains' a likable, fuckable attribute. It came down to looks, and that was it.

Finding Kenny again – who was giving Butters multiple shots to down, thus intoxicating the innocent cross-dressing blond, Kyle took a few shots from him and downed them quickly. His blond roommate could tell something was wrong, but didn't ask about it; he knew Kyle well enough to tell one mood from the next. And currently, the redhead was giving off the vibe of 'give-me-liquor-and-don't-say-anything'.

But he began to feel bold...

He didn't _have_ to take this shit.

Looking around, his hazy green eyes tried to search for Craig… but he didn't see him anywhere. He did, however, spot Stan – who was staring at him sadly. _Yeah, he SHOULD feel bad_, Kyle thought to himself bitterly. He'd made it perfectly clear he wasn't gay, and the redhead knew he had to accept that. So why did Stan try and make him feel guilty about making out with someone else?

Heading back through the kitchen, Kyle emerged onto the back porch again. Craig stood upright from his position of leaning against the wall – initially a bit startled that someone tore onto the porch with such force. He immediately relaxed and raised a calm brow when he saw Kyle; he flicked his cigarette away.

"I didn't know Stan was the 'jealous-heterosexual' type." He mumbled sarcastically. "Do you _like_ being his little bitch?" He asked with a hint of bitter resentment in his voice.

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "I'm NOT his bitch." He growled. To Craig's surprise, Kyle closed the distance between them and slammed his mouth against Craig's. The ebony-haired young man moaned initially in shock, but didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around the smaller redhead, pulling him even closer. Kyle knew he was drunk – and by the look of it, Craig wasn't.

"How drunk are you?" Craig breathed, breaking away from the kiss; almost like he was able to read Kyle's mind.

The redhead looked to the other lustfully, "Drunk enough to know that I want this," He whispered huskily. "But not so drunk that you should feel guilty about taking advantage," He purred, trailing a hand down Craig's chest, to tug at the hem of his jeans as his fingers brushed by the skin of his hips.

Craig groaned, his yellow cat eyes hooding themselves with a dark haze – before he pressed his lips against Kyle's again, thrusting his tongue into his mouth. Kyle moaned and arched his back, pushing himself closer against Craig's stronger form. God, he was a good kisser… much better than Kyle remembered from their brief make-out session an hour ago before Stan interrupted them.

"Upstairs," The ink-haired boy ordered.

Kyle tried to blink the hazy lust from his eyes, "W-What? Why?" He asked impatiently.

"Because I'm going to fuck you," He purred against the redhead's ear, accentuating his words with his tongue as he licked the shell of Kyle's ear. "I'm going to fuck you as hard as I can…" He whispered. "Believe me… you'll WANT a bed…" He warned.

Kyle shuddered, leaning forward and biting Craig's lower lip roughly between his teeth. That only lasted a few seconds, before Craig gripped Kyle's hand in his, and immediately dragged the redhead back through the house. The guy was a powerhouse; strong and confident as he led the way up the stairs… meanwhile, Kyle stumbled occasionally, still rather tipsy from downing his 'sympathy' shots after his argument with Stan.

As they headed up the stairwell, Kyle glanced down toward the living room, only to see Stan giving him a deadly glare.

Taking a page from Craig… Kyle just smirked back at him cockily, and flipped him off.

They disappeared upstairs before Kyle could see his best friend's reaction.

"Where's your room?" Craig hissed impatiently, tugging Kyle against him and latching his lips onto his neck.

Kyle groaned, "H-Here…" He mumbled, pulling Craig into his room. The other boy slammed the door shut with his foot, before he wrapped his arms around Kyle and continued ferociously sucking on the soft skin of his throat. The redhead stumbled back onto the bed as Craig pushed him onto it, and immediately crawled above him.

"You like being someone's bitch, huh Broflovski?" Craig mumbled as he moved his lips away from his throat.

The redhead groaned, "Fuck you…" He hissed out defiantly. But he only served to get more turned on as Craig chuckled.

"I'd rather fuck YOU," He purred, capturing Kyle's lips in a kiss as his hands worked to open the tight black jeans the redhead was wearing. He unwittingly bucked his hips up toward Craig, which oddly enough, made the dark haired boy groan. "From now on… you're MY bitch, Kyle…" He breathed out. "Forget about Stan. He can fuck himself." He growled, raising up and peeling off his own hoodie and shirt.

Kyle couldn't help but admire his toned, smooth skin; his muscles rippling beneath it as he leaned back over Kyle, and tugged off his Mad Hatter jacket and shirt.

The redhead sneered, ignoring his hazy lust, "I'm NOT anyone's bitch!" He yelled defiantly.

"You need to learn your place, Kyle." Craig growled, tugging open Kyle's pants, and beginning to push them down.

The defiant redhead snapped his head up, and struck Craig hard across the face with his fist; he watched with some initial satisfaction as Craig's head rocked back and to the side.

The two of them actually stopped; silence resting between them. Kyle had never felt so angry or offended… but he was also incredibly turned on. And yes, still drunk.

Craig turned and looked back to him, his eyes darkening with lust – as a sly smirk came to his lips. Reaching behind him, Craig yanked off his long cat-tail and grabbed Kyle's hands. Before the redhead knew what was happening, Craig had tied his wrists together with the fluffy, long tail.

"Craig!" Kyle yelled angrily, hips bucking beneath the young, dark-haired man. "Untie me, you asshole!"

But Craig ignored him, shoving Kyle back down to the bed. "God, you're so fucking resistant…" He smirked. Leaning down, he licked his hot tongue along Kyle's jaw. "It's hot."

Another moan passed Kyle's lips as he felt Craig traveling down his throat, to lick and suck on the skin of his chest, while his hands explore Kyle's hips and thighs. He figured he got off lucky… not _everyone_ could punch Craig Tucker – and get away with it. Instead, it seemed to turn the dark-haired young man on MORE. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that _Kyle_ had punched him; his own spitfire redhead… the one person who WOULDN'T let Craig walk all over him.

Fuck it was hot.

Kyle lulled his head back, as he felt Craig finally pulling off his pants and boxers, tossing them aside and leaving him completely exposed. "I knew you liked this, you filthy bitch…" Craig groaned, staring down at the redhead appreciatively as he licked his lips.

"F-Fuck you," The redhead spat. "Untie me…" He breathed out again, though his demanding 'resistant' voice was beginning to sound less and less convincing.

But again, Craig ignored him – instead, he stood up and took off his own jeans and boxers. Kyle's eyes widened when he saw Craig's already hard cock spring forth from his jeans as he moved to crawl back on top of him.

"T-Take out those fucking contacts!" Kyle growled impatiently.

Craig smirked, "Why? … Does the Hatter not want to be fucked by his Cheshire?" He asked rhetorically, running his hand over Kyle's dick. The redhead cried out, bucking his hips into Craig's hand unwillingly. "I think I'll leave them in… since they _bother_ you so much." He grinned, running his tongue down Kyle's flat stomach.

Without so much as a warning – Kyle cried out as he felt Craig take him into his mouth; going down on him with a renewed sense of vigor and energy that, frankly, Kyle didn't know was in him. He'd never seen Craig so energetic. Then again, when it came to getting laid, Kyle supposed everyone's energy shot up. A desperate whine escaped the back of the redhead's throat as he lulled back on the bed, arching his hard cock up into Craig's mouth. The dark-haired boy ended up pinning Kyle's hips down, and administering his blowjob in a slow, tantalizing manner.

"C-Craig! Oh fuck!" Kyle yelled between his moans.

Sliding his mouth away from him, he heard Craig chuckle as he moved back over the redhead. "What was that? Begging?" The dark-haired boy groaned huskily. "Only a filthy bitch groans, Kyle… is that what you are?" He purred.

"_Ugh_!" Kyle hissed, snapping his head to one side as he grit his teeth defiantly. "I'm not… going to _say_ it!" He yelled angrily.

But with the feeling of Craig's legs straddling his chest, and the feeling of his hand in his hair – Kyle was forced to look back at him. He leaned down, pushing Kyle's tied hands up over his head, and pinned them there with one hand, while his other hand grabbed his own hard cock. "Open your mouth…" He demanded with a sly, grin - his breathing already erratic and rather shallow.

Kyle turned his furious green eyes toward Craig, but slowly, his tongue leaked out to flick over the head of his cock. That small move caused a deep, throaty groan to escape the back of Craig's throat. Grasping onto Kyle's hair, he shoved his cock into the redhead's mouth, and threw his head back with a steamy cry as he began to thrust into Kyle's mouth. Surprisingly, as defiant and stubborn as Kyle was, he seemed to be enjoying himself. And god, his tongue was amazing. He HAD to have had some lessons from Kenny McCormick - there was no way Kyle was THIS good without a bit of practice. And as far as Craig knew, Kyle had never had a boyfriend.

Closing his eyes, Craig's resolve faltered – when he felt himself beginning to reach his climax, he pulled out of Kyle's mouth. The redhead coughed a bit, but his eyes seemed just as eager to take this to the next level. Moving back down his body, Craig spread Kyle's legs out and rubbed his hard member; lubing it with his pre-cum and spit, as he began to dry hump the redhead.

Kyle's voice got louder and louder with desperate need, as he tugged on his bound wrists. "Fuck! C-Craig! Just… fuck me!" He yelled.

"Say _it_…" Craig grit out between his clenched teeth; he was trying to hold himself back.

The redhead cried out, "I-I'm… _ugh_! … I'm a …f-filthy…" He began. But his voice increased in volume as soon as Craig thrusted into him, "BITCH!" He yelled.

Craig let out a primal scream as well, as he stayed still within the redhead; feeling his walls contract and adjust around his hard cock. Slowly, he began to thrust in and out, gradually increasing his speed as he did. Leaning back over Kyle, he captured his lips in a hot, wet kiss – as his free hand pinned Kyle's bound wrists over his head, while his other hand snaked down to wrap around the redhead's throbbing member. Jacking him off, thrusting into him, and French kissing him all at the same time, Kyle's senses were overwhelmed, and he couldn't help but cry out desperately into Craig's mouth.

Both of the twenty-year old boys came a few minutes later; Craig erupting into Kyle, while the redhead exploded onto his own chest, and collapsed his weary body back onto his bed. Groaning, Craig reluctantly slid out of him and fell back onto the mattress beside Kyle. He noticed Craig finally taking out his yellow cat-eye contacts, before tossing them onto the redhead's bedside nightstand.

Then, reaching over, Craig grasped the other boy's wrists and untied his cattail from them. Tossing the costume piece aside, he brought Kyle's wrists up to his lips, and gently kissed the slightly irritated skin. The action somewhat surprised Kyle; their sex had been so passionate and kind of dirty… that it was odd to get such a tender gesture from Craig.

CRAIG: the guy who'd spent most of his life being a badass, a bully, a rebel, a loner. He still couldn't wrap his head around it.

He made a small noise as he felt Craig's arm wrap around him, and pull him closer; partly onto his chest, and spooned right up alongside him.

"Thank you…" Kyle mumbled embarrassingly.

Craig glanced at him, before resting his head back on the pillow casually. "That wasn't all about _you_." He shrugged lazily; hell, that was the best orgasm _he'd_ had in a while.

"I know, I… just…" He began, but he paused, biting his lower lip.

The raven-haired boy sighed, "Don't be such a chick. Out with it, Broflovski." He mumbled.

"It meant a lot, _alright_ asshole?" Kyle snapped back, sighing frustratingly before tugging himself out of Craig's arms. "It's hard to hear your _best_ friend tell you that the ONLY reason someone would want to fuck you, is because they're desperate and horny." He grumbled, lying back down on the other side of the bed.

There was a slight pause between them, before Craig spoke again. "Stan said that to you? … About me?" He asked curiously.

"Just get out." Kyle sighed, staring at the wall across from his bed.

Hearing a shift in the bed, the redhead thought Craig was actually going to take him up on that request; maybe LISTEN to what he said for once.

But instead, he felt Craig's arms slip back around his waist, and felt the raven-haired boys chest press against his back. "Kyle, do I _really_ look all that desperate?" He commented; while Kyle couldn't see him, he could tell Craig was smirking. "I can get _anyone_ I want." He knew he was good looking, and he knew that while people considered him an 'asshole' – they were also drawn to his mysterious depth and seclusion.

"Then why the fuck would you want me?" Kyle scoffed halfheartedly.

There was another pause, only this time the redhead found himself eager for a response. Why the hell _would_ someone like Craig want him – especially if he really COULD actually get anyone he wanted.

"I don't want you, Kyle…" He commented. Kyle bit his lower lip and closed his eyes… it was pretty much the answer he expected…

"…I _need_ you." Craig finished gently.

The redhead's eyes flew open and he turned in Craig's arms – facing the raven-haired boy with a look of complete bewilderment and shock. "What?" He asked; maybe he just hadn't heard him right. He was still kind of drunk.

"Kyle, Stan's an asshole." He said calmly, though there was a serious tone in his voice. "You've just got to get over the fact that he isn't going to run up here and declare his love for you. He's too stubborn. And even if he DID feel the same way, he's too much of a pussy to admit it." Craig explained point blank.

Kyle lowered his eyes a bit; while he knew Craig was right, it still hurt to hear it.

"But he's not the _only_ attractive, dark-haired guy in South Park." Craig continued, placing a finger beneath Kyle's chin and lifting his eyes back up to look into his stormy gray ones. "Why don't you give someone _else_ a chance…" He mumbled with a sly grin. "Someone who can bring out the filthy bitch in you every night."

The redhead blushed and shook his head. "You really _are_ an asshole."

"I am. And you love it." Craig whispered, flicking his tongue out along Kyle's lips. "You need someone to pull you off your high horse from time to time. I'm your personal devil's advocate." He grinned. "Get used to being 'wrong', Broflovski." Craig teased.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Fuck that. I'm smarter than you, and I—" He began, but was cut off when Craig captured Kyle's lips in another kiss. The redhead couldn't help but moan, and forget his argument as he became lost in the kiss.

"You were saying?" Craig smirked.

His eyes were met with sparkling green ones; he had always thought Kyle's eyes were beautiful – fierce, determined, stubborn, and passionate.

"Forget it." He mumbled with a small smile, before moving closer to Craig and draping an arm around his toned waist. His head found it's resting place halfway between his shoulder and chest of the ebony-haired young man. He closed his eyes as he felt Craig stroking his fingers through his soft, ruby locks. Kyle really did feel safe with Craig, and he had no idea why. They weren't close, and they really didn't know each other all that well... but for one reason or another, Kyle believe him. Perhaps part of what made Craig such an asshole was because he told things like they were; he was truthful and blunt - black and white. The redhead knew he was more 'gray' in terms of his beliefs and opinions. Maybe they WERE a good match.

Unfortunately, their afterglow was cut short, as Kyle's door flew open and Stan rushed in. "Kyle, I can't take it! I love y—" He stopped; his mouth hung open as he saw Kyle and Craig lying beneath the sheets of Kyle's bed, naked and spooned together.

Craig didn't seem too bothered by the intrusion, whereas the redhead blushed and shifted nervously.

"Piss or get off the pot, Marsh." Craig mumbled with a slight sneer. "You're letting the heat out." Kyle felt Craig's arm around his shoulders tighten; almost like he was subconsciously afraid Stan was just going to rip the redhead away from him.

Stan glared at Craig, before moving his eyes back to Kyle. "I love you." He said simply. There was an uncomfortable silence that filled the room, and slowly, Stan left again – shutting the door behind him.

He'd said his piece, and would wait to talk to Kyle later.

Kyle and Craig lay there in silence; the redhead could almost feel the tension emitting from the ebony-haired man at his side.

"I thought you said Stan was NEVER going to run up here and declare his love for me?" Kyle asked curiously.

Craig's eyes shifted downward. "I… did say that." He admitted. Kyle could detect a hint of sadness in the raven's voice; like he was expecting Kyle to get up, run back to Stan, and live happily ever after.

"So… that would mean YOU… were wrong." The redhead said slowly, drawing out the words. Craig opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the inevitable. But instead, he saw Kyle's face lean over him - a reassuring smile on his lips. "Get _used_ to being wrong, Tucker." He repeated, drawing on Craig's earlier comment to him.

Slowly, Craig's lips turned into a relieved, small smile. "Would I be 'wrong' in assuming that you want to run after Stan?" He asked dully; his voice was calm, though his eyes were clearly searching Kyle's for reassurance.

Kyle reached a hand up to brush some of Craig's dark hair away from his eyes… that were still focused intensely on him. They really _were _beautiful; his eyes reminded Kyle of a thunderstorm; light gray with hints of a dull blue color, and darker gray flecks. Very unique; just like Craig.

Leaning down, Kyle placed a gentle kiss on Craig's lips.

"Dead wrong." The redhead answered quietly.

They smiled at one another.


	11. Mine :: Style, Creek, Bunny

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD… like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings: **Multiple!

**Summary: **This is just a series of one-shots… I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, Non-Refundable, etc).

**Notes I: **There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II :** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics… I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE – I'd like your opinions as well… so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know

**Notes III:** The tense kind of changes from 'he' to 'she' – especially regarding our gender-bending characters lol so just ignore it and bear with me.

* * *

**Pairings:** Stan/Kyle, Kenny/Butters, Craig/Tweek

**Shot-Theme: **Flagpole Sitta – by – Harvey Danger

Lol this one-shot is pointless … xD … it was just a random idea I had, and I thought, 'Yeah I could probably swing that as a cute one-shot'. So… voila. I felt like doing a gender-bender, so DEAL with it!

Rated **M**… for Mafesto… xD … and **C** … for clichés

* * *

"So wait… say that again." Stan said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He was currently standing in the hallway of their high school – beside his locker, with Craig and Kenny. Wendy and Bebe were also standing there, after stopping when Cartman's previous comment had caught their attention as they passed.

Cartman smirked. "I told you…" He repeated calmly and a bit arrogantly. "I was able to get my hands on a few 'concoctions' that Dr. Mafesto had recently been working on. For once, they didn't involve multiple asses." He grinned.

"So… what kind of 'concoctions' are you talking about?" Kenny shrugged.

Again, the beefier teen smirked wickedly. "Let's just assume I know WHY Kyle, Tweek and Butters are sick today." He sighed, leaning casually against the lockers.

"Cartman, what did you do?" Stan snapped angrily; he had a sinking feeling, now that he knew it had something to do with Kyle.

Craig seemed to get a similar feeling, because his gray eyes narrowed on Cartman. "Yeah, just stop being an asshole and spill." He grumbled.

"Well, let's just say that Tweek, Kyle and Butters can no longer use the phrase 'Bros Before Hoes' …" He smirked. "I turned those fags into chicks."

Cartman grinned even wider as he saw the mouths of his friends drop open in shock. "You didn't!" Wendy laughed, still surprised – but for some reason, found the idea highly amusing.

"Did." Eric said, giving her a wink. "Come on, it's pretty funny." He looked back toward his friends.

Stan narrowed his eyes, "No it's _not_. You don't know what the hell Mafesto puts into those fucking experiments of his – they could seriously get hurt!" He yelled.

"Yeah, and how do you even know it worked?" Kenny asked with a cheeky grin.

"Dumbass, why do you think they're 'sick' today? They're probably freaking out." Cartman laughed. "I snuck into their rooms last night and injected the serum into their arms while they slept."

Craig tensed, "What the hell is your problem, fatass?" He snapped angrily.

"Jesus, calm down asshole. By the sounds of it, I should've turned YOU three into chicks instead. Get the fucking sand out of your vaginas. Don't you see how _funny_ this is?" He asked, still chuckling away.

But the sound of Wendy's cell phone ringing, interrupting them. "Hello?" She asked. Pausing, her eyes met with the boys around her. "Oh, hey Butters." She smiled, quirking a brow as she listened to him speak quickly into the phone. "Um… yeah sure, Bebe and I can come to your house. What for?" She asked. The boys waited silently, each one of them wishing they could hear the conversation she was having with Butters. "Ok. Yeah, we'll be there soon." She finished, hanging up.

"What did he want?" Kenny asked quickly.

Wendy glanced around the circle, before looking back to Cartman. "He wants Bebe and I to come over and 'help' him with some kind of problem." She shrugged. "By the sound of his voice, he was either really freaked out… or really excited. It's hard to tell with Butters." Wendy mused.

"Ok, ok," Stan said, shaking his head. "You two go over to Butters' and see what he wants. When you're done, call us and we'll meet somewhere. I want to know if Cartman's stupid prank actually worked." He grumbled.

Craig nodded, "Me too. Tweek hasn't been answering his phone all day." He complained angrily. They knew that if there was one thing that Craig hated, it was being ignored by the twitchy blond.

"Alright, we'll call you." Wendy smiled, grabbing Bebe's hand and tugging her eagerly out of the school.

The four boys left shortly after, each going their separate way to head home. But Craig, Stan and Kenny couldn't really get the whole mess out of their heads. Stan had always cared for Kyle, and the thought of loosing his best friend made his heart ache. What if Cartman's plan HAD worked, and they couldn't change back? Craig had a similar problem. He'd always been drawn to the twitchy blond, since he was so strange; and in Craig's otherwise stoic life, he depended on Tweek's paranoia and freak-outs to keep him somewhat entertained. Besides, he liked feeling 'wanted' – and he'd come to actually _enjoy_ having someone to protect. Kenny, meanwhile, had always paraded himself as the school's male slut, and proud of it. He was good looking and charming, and could get anyone he wanted. Frankly, he was just interested to see if Cartman's weird scheme had worked. The thought of his friends as females obviously turned him on.

But all three couldn't help but wonder the same thing; could they really stay friends with girls?

Stan had spent most of the evening in his room, pacing. He kept checking his phone to see if Wendy had called, but she didn't. Instead, he was bombarded with calls from Craig AND Kenny, who wanted to know what was going on, and if he'd heard anything.

Unfortunately, when Stan FINALLY heard from Wendy – she didn't tell him anything, except the fact that Cartman HAD actually turned them into girls. She told Stan that when they'd gotten to Butters house, they'd found Kyle and Tweek there as well.

Stan immediately tried to ask for details, but Wendy decided teasing him would be more fun; she told Stan he would need to wait until morning, and that Kyle, Tweek AND Butters would all be at school the next day. By the tone of her voice, she actually sounded kind of excited. Stan could only imagine what Kyle, Tweek and Butters had to endure in the hands of Bebe and Wendy.

After he got off the phone with his ex-girlfriend, Stan quickly called Craig and Kenny and told them the story. While Kenny seemed content to wait until morning, Craig seemed just as pissed as Stan that he had to WAIT.

When he finally got off the phone with Craig, Stan crawled into bed… but couldn't sleep.

He couldn't stop wondering what Kyle would look like as a girl…

* * *

The next morning, Craig, Stan and Kenny all got to school early. During the walk to school, they had each sent text messages to Butters, Kyle and Tweek – telling them to come early as well. The only response they got was a text message to Stan, from Kyle, which simply said: OK.

They arrived at school first, and eagerly stood by their lockers – awaiting the arrival of their friends… who had, consequently, been turned into girls.

"Maybe we're overreacting." Stan shrugged. "Maybe they won't look THAT different. I mean seriously, how 'good' can Mafesto's experiment be?" He scoffed.

Craig nodded, "You're right. That guy's a total loser."

"Jesus…" Kenny mumbled.

Looking toward Kenny, the two dark-haired teens saw him staring down the hall. Following his line of sight, their jaws dropped as well… as they saw Kyle, Tweek and Butters heading down the hall.

By the looks of them, they'd gotten some kind of makeover from Bebe and Wendy.

Kyle's Jew fro was no more; instead, it was replaced by longer, red hair that fell in loose waves around the frame of her slender face. It fell just above her shoulders – and as always, seemed to make her large green eyes pop even more with color. Her skin was still pale, though a few freckles dawned her cheeks and a bit across her nose; but it wasn't over-bearing, and while she had red hair, none of them would go so far as to call her a 'ginger'. She wore an orange hoodie that clung to her slender torso and curves. On her lower half, Kyle wore faded skinny jeans that hugged her hips and lithe legs. There were a few rips in them, and they dragged a bit on the ground over her green converse sneakers. Frankly, none of them were surprised that Kyle was wearing jeans – since the redhead was always more modest.

Tweek, meanwhile, still had wild blond hair – though it was a bit longer. It hung in chunks around her heart-shaped face to compliment her larger, wide hazel eyes… that _still_ seemed to shift around nervously. Even as a female, the teen couldn't stop twitching and tugging at aspects of her clothing or hair. She had a long scarf around her neck that was a warm brown color, mirroring the color of coffee. Tweek still dawned a familiar dark-green button up shirt, but for once, the buttons were done up right (no doubt, having gotten help from either Wendy, or one of the others) and covered her slender body. On her hips sat a dark gray-tweed skirt that fell just above her slender thighs; but black nylon stockings hid the smooth skin beneath. On her feet were doc martin army boots that fell just below her knees; the laces were a bit messy and coming undone, but it only served to wrap up the entire picture that was female Tweek: complete with thermos in her hands.

Finally, Butters. His previous small, gentle form was now even MORE small and gentle now that he was a female; his soft, blond hair was longer now, held in cute, loose pigtails that bordered that feminine looking face and fell just to her shoulders. She had on her familiar sea-green sweater, which still hugged to beautifully to her slender body. On her hips sat a small blue kilt – which fell just to her delicate, lithe thighs – exposing the smooth skin there. This was topped with white knee socks, and tall winter boots that started just below her knee. Her large blue eyes looked nervously up at them, still showing her complete playful innocence.

When they got closer, all three were wearing a bit of makeup; noticeably mascara, that they had also no doubt gotten from Wendy and Bebe.

"Hey," Kyle said awkwardly, a small blush falling onto her cheeks.

Stan couldn't tear his eyes away from his best friend. "Hey…" He said, clearing his throat, trying to get his voice back. "Um… y-you… don't look half bad." Stan shrugged, offering a small smile.

"Yeah, thanks." The redhead smirked, rolling her eyes. Apparently, she thought Stan was kidding.

Kenny couldn't stop staring at Butters – and with a sly smirk on his lips, made his way over to the small blond and began walking around her like a vulture. "So, where'd you get the hot outfits?" He purred. "You guys look like… hot… rejected Barbie dolls, or something."

"W-Well I asked Bebe and Wendy to come over last night… I didn't know who else to call," Butters admitted with a bashful smile. "And before we knew it, t-they were takin' us to the mall, and helped us pick out these clothes!" He smiled.

Stan grinned, leaning against his locker, "And… the makeup?" He mused.

"Wendy's idea." Kyle grumbled, scuffing her toe on the ground. "I think it looks stupid." He said.

But Stan was quick to say, "No. It's cute." He smiled. Kyle met the eyes of his best friend, and couldn't help but blush and look down – rolling her eyes a bit again.

"_A-Ack_! This is just too much pressure!" Tweek stammered, clutching her thermos tightly. "W-What if we're stuck like this forever? _Nngh_! What if I have to learn to be a girl? I-I don't know how to DO this man! _Gah_! I don't want to bleed out my vagina!" He screamed. "Blood! _NNGH_!"

But Craig pulled Tweek against him, wrapping his long arms around the small, twitchy blond female. "I think you look great." He mumbled huskily. Craig hadn't really been able to take his eyes off his best friend as soon as he'd seen them coming. God, his mannerisms were even sexier as a female – and his urge to protect and hold Tweek had never been stronger. His hands traveled down her sides on their own will, and grazed the hem of Tweek's short gray-tweed skirt, groping her nylon-covered thigh.

Tweek made a small noise, and anxiously, tried to pull herself out of Craig's arms – but the taller, dark haired male held onto her tighter.

"Craig, lay off!" Kyle snapped, grabbing Tweek's hand and pulling the other female toward her. The ebony-haired teen shot a small glare at Kyle, but immediately went back to staring at Tweek lustfully. "This is a _huge_ change… but it's something we gotta just deal with until we can find a way to change back." The redhead began to explain. "But we're appreciate it if you guys just… stayed calm. We're still the same people – we just look a little…" Kyle began.

But Kenny interjected with his own word: "Hotter?" He smirked, his blue eyes already trailing over Butters.

"Different." The redhead corrected, though a small blush couldn't help but paint her pale cheeks at the suggestion that they looked hot.

Stan nodded, "Don't worry. Nothing's changed – we're all still friends."

"Not true." Kenny sighed. "Sorry Stan… but I can't agree to that." He mumbled. Turning his eyes to the blond who'd caught his attention, Kenny smirked, "Butters – I'm probably going to fuck you." He purred.

Butters blushed, "O-Oh… jeeze…" The female looked down at the ground, playing anxiously with the hem of her blue kilt.

"Kenny!" Stan scolded.

But to his surprise, Craig spoke up as well, "I agree with Kenny." He said stoically, keeping his eyes on Tweek. "I can't promise anything. I've _never_ wanted to fuck anyone so badly." He said in a husky tone.

"_Nngh_! Pressure!" Tweek stammered, moving to stand nervously behind Kyle.

Craig stood from his previous position of leaning against the lockers, taking a step forward. "Tweek… just come here for a second…" He coaxed; his gray eyes piercing into those beautiful hazel ones with a predatory lust the blond had never seen before.

"Ok, enough with the sexual tension!" Stan snapped, stepping in front of Kyle, Butters and Tweek – placing himself between the boys and 'new' girls. "Just relax and take a breath. I know you're both sexually charged teenagers, but get a _grip_." Stan scolded. "They're still our friends, and unless you want to RUIN a future friendship with them when they turn BACK into guys… you'll cut it out." He warned.

Kenny and Craig exchanged a quick look, and tried to bottle their initial lust. "Fine." Kenny pouted in response.

"More people will be coming in soon. Why don't we all just head to class early… we'll meet here after." Stan nodded.

Craig scoffed, "We've got fifteen minutes before class. I'm going outside for a smoke." He mumbled, closing his locker and beginning to head down the hall. But as he passed Tweek, he couldn't help but steal another hooded glance at the trembling blond. Tweek noticed, and immediately blushed – stepping further behind Kyle.

"Me too." Kenny grinned, jogging to catch up with Craig. The two began talking quietly between one another – and Stan couldn't help but think they were probably scheming against their new female friends.

He was distracted when he felt a hand on his arm. "Thanks for being so cool about all this Stan." Kyle smiled.

"No problem." Stan shrugged, giving the redhead female a small smile. Despite not being as 'vocal' as Kenny and Craig were on the subject – Stan DID think Kyle looked incredibly sexy. Even just wearing her orange hoodie and jeans; her loose curls looked so soft, and her eyes seemed even larger and brighter than before. Or maybe he'd just never noticed. "Let's head to class. I'll go with you to make sure Craig and Kenny don't try and jump any of you." Stan smirked.

Heading down the hall with the three females – they all turned to look at Butters, as she spoke up, "H-Hey fellas… can you guys, uh, maybe call me… M-Marjorine from now on?" She sheepishly smiled, walking down the hall with a playful sway to her hips.

Kyle, Tweek and Stan exchanged a quick look; apparently, Butters felt more at home as a girl than he did as a boy.

...Not that they were surprised.

* * *

When lunch finally rolled around, Tweek, Butters and Kyle were exhausted. Apparently, they made attractive girls… and as the day progressed, the three had to fend off many of their horny, male friends. Though, it wasn't hard to believe that being Seniors in high school, the guys were rather sexually charged.

"I-I don't LIKE being a girl! _Nngh_! It's too much pressure!" Tweek stammered, tugging on some of her jagged blond hair as they moved through the lunch line. "Everyone keeps trying to TOUCH me!"

Kyle sighed, grabbing a sandwich from the lunch line. "I know - it's so annoying! Even Stan has started to touch me more and more as the day's gone on." He mumbled.

Though truthfully, while guys trying to touch him had been frustrating… Kyle had to admit that he didn't mind so much when it was Stan. Besides, his best friend seemed to be extra protective of him today, and was sure to tug Kyle away from being mauled by their friends.

"Well gee, I don't _really_ mind." Marjorine smiled dreamily.

Kyle and Tweek just exchanged a glance; they'd always known Butters was cute, and now that he was a girl – apparently, he was going to enjoy flaunting just how cute he was. She was a complete flirt, and loving every minute of it. Kyle couldn't help but notice she'd been making eyes at Kenny all day, and had even flashed him a bit of her thigh when she'd crossed her legs during class. Kenny had almost started to visibly drool…

Grabbing their trays, the three teens walked into the main cafeteria, and weaved their way through various rows, in order to get to their usual table. Thankfully, they were the first to arrive.

"S-So what should we –_nngh_- do?" Tweek asked as they sat. The blond tugged on his tweed-gray skirt as it rode up his legging-clad thighs a bit. He wasn't used to wearing this stuff, and it only made the paranoid blond tug and yank at his own clothing more.

Kyle shook his head, "I dunno. Maybe we can go see Mafesto and ask him for a cure? Some kind of antidote?" He suggested. "I can't imagine him making something like this WITHOUT creating a way to reverse it." Sighing, he rubbed his eyes. "Fuck, I'm going to KILL Cartman when I see him." He growled.

"Really?" The smooth, cocky voice of Kenny broke through their conversation. "I think I owe that fatass a great big thank you." He mused with a sly smirk. Taking a seat beside Marjorine, Kenny sat sideways so his legs were bordering her where she sat facing in; he tugged her closer so she was somewhat seated between his legs.

Marjorine blushed, "H-Hey Kenny!" She greeted sweetly, before she continued to eat her lunch, trying to play hard-to-get.

"Butters, you're not making this any better." Kyle sighed annoyingly. "Stop being a cock-tease."

But Kenny interrupted before Butters could speak, "Don't listen to her." He muttered huskily. "Go ahead and keep being a cock-tease. I just hope you can handle what I'm going to _do _to you after school." He purred.

"W-Well gee, I'm not a cock-tease… am I?" Marjorine asked curiously, tilting her head.

Kenny grinned, "You are. A big one." He said with a nod. "And you can't expect to be a cock-tease all day - and have me do nothing about it." The McCormick teen warned in a playful tone. "You're going to get it." Kenny's right hand slid around her back, while his left hand slowly trailed up the smooth skin of her leg toward her blue kilt.

Marjorine just blushed and pushed his hand away. Instead, she gave him half her sandwich to distract him. Kenny took it – but still kept his lustful, playful blue eyes on the blond next to him.

"Hey." Stan greeted.

Looking up, Kyle was relieved to see Stan and Craig arriving at their table. His best friend took a seat beside the redheaded female, while Craig immediately went around to the other side of the table where Tweek was, and sat beside the twitching blond.

"We're gonna have a big game of touch-football after school." His raven-haired best friend told him with a smile. "You wanna come watch?"

Kyle furrowed his brow. "Watch?" He repeated. "Why can't we PLAY?" He asked, already knowing where this was going.

"Well," Stan cleared his throat. "You're… girls now, and… I didn't think it would be fair for you to get tackled by guys." He admitted.

The redhead pouted and sighed, "Whatever. Maybe for a little while… but we have to go see Mafesto later tonight – and try to reverse this whole mess."

"Oh. Right." Stan mumbled. It was an odd, off-handed confirmation that made Kyle tilt his head. Was that not a logical move? Why did Stan seem so disheartened at the idea of them finding a way to change back into boys?

Craig, meanwhile, had slid right up to sit beside Tweek as closely as possible. "You're coming to watch." He confirmed, rather than really 'asking'.

"_Nngh_… u-um, yes?" Tweek answered awkwardly. "B-But we need to –_ack_- go find that w-weird scientist after!" He reminded the noirette before he took a long gulp from his thermos.

But a small panicked sound escaped passed Tweek's lips as he felt Craig pull him up and into his lap. The blond whined uncomfortably and tried to wiggle away, but Craig only tightened his grip. "Yeah… maybe. We'll see." He shrugged; like finding the antidote to turn their friends back into guys wasn't really a priority.

"W-What do you mean… m-maybe?" Tweek asked as a blush flushed on her cheeks.

Craig turned his eyes to look up into Tweek's large hazel ones. For some reason, the blond felt both uncomfortable, and kind of intrigued by the gray eyes staring back at him. As the raven's arm stayed securely tucked around his waist, Tweek felt his other hand running up her nylon-covered thigh. "_Gah_! I-I… um… _nngh_!" The blond stammered nervously, her blush only increasing.

"Relax." Craig said firmly, pulling Tweek further onto his lap.

They were so close that when Craig tilted his chin up, his lips brushed against Tweek's chin. Before the blond could say anything, a stern voice called to them. "Mr. Tucker, _please_ refrain from public displays of affection in the school." The female teacher warned. "The cafeteria has seats – your girlfriend doesn't need to be in your lap."

"GAH! I-I'm not his g-girlfriend!" Tweek stammered wiggling out of Craig's arms and lap – sliding back onto the table seat.

Craig looked up to the female teacher with a scowl and flipped her off. Thankfully she didn't press the matter, and settled for giving him a glare, before continuing to monitor the cafeteria.

* * *

The three females sat on the empty bleachers outside their high school – while their male friends played a rough game of touch football. Of course with boys, 'touch' football often just reverted to tackling. Stan, Kenny and Token were playing against Clyde, Cartman and Craig. When Cartman had first seen Tweek, Kyle and Butters as females – he laughed and congratulated himself on pulling off the prank. But that only lasted a few seconds before he began to REALLY take in their appearance… and found himself succumbing to his own teenage hormones. Hell, he even hit on Butters! Though Kenny was quick to put an end to that.

"This is booooring." Marjorine sighed, twirling a strand of her blond hair around her finger.

Tweek clutched her thermos tightly. "H-How long do you think we need to –_nngh_- sit here?" The blond asked tentatively. "I wanna turn BACK! I-I can't take this much longer! _Nngh_… C-Craig's gonna kill me!"

"He's not going to kill you, Tweek." Kyle huffed, rolling his eyes. "He might _jump_ you… but he won't kill you."

The blond twitched, "W-What do you mean 'jump' m-me?" He asked meekly.

"Aw heck, we might as well _enjoy_ this while we can!" Marjorine interjected with a bright smile. "How often is it that-that WE have the upper hand, huh?" She asked, looking to her female friends. "Do you… do you REALIZE what we can do to them?" She grinned.

Kyle narrowed his eyes at the blond. "Butters, you can't be serious." The morally conscious redhead scolded. "That's so manipulative."

"Yeah!" Marjorine squealed. "D-Don't you wanna know what it's like to be in control for once?" She asked in an eager voce.

While Kyle wanted to object to Butters' logic… part of him WAS kind of curious. It didn't help that the three of them were normally seen as the 'weaker' ones of the group. Stan protected Kyle, Craig protected Tweek and Kenny protected Butters. They were never really taken too seriously when it came to defending themselves.

"Watch and learn." Marjorine giggled, standing up.

Setting her bookbag onto the bleacher seat – she glanced back toward the vacant field where the boys were playing football and caught Kenny's eyes. The McCormick teen smirked and nodded to her as the boys set up for another hike.

Turning back around, Marjorine bent over, unzipping her bag and fiddling around in it. However, bending over provided Kenny with a glimpse of her ass; her blue kilt rose up a bit on her creamy, slender thighs to reveal the barest 'hint' of baby-blue underwear.

When the football was in play, Kenny was left standing alone – frozen in place by lust as his eyes focused on Butters alone. The rest of the boys played, while Stan and Token yelled at him for getting distracted and allowing the other team to score a point. Still in a daze, Kenny only snapped out of it when Token slapped him on the arm. Shaking his head, the blond, scruffy-haired teen looked back toward Marjorine lustfully as they lined up for another hike.

"See?" Marjorine giggled, sitting back down. "Wasn't that fun?"

While he didn't approve, Kyle actually had to laugh. That was kind of funny. "Let me try." He smirked, finding Stan on the field.

Since his best friend was the quarterback on the high school football team – he was naturally the quarter back each time they decided to play for fun. Waiting to get the ball, Stan leaned down behind Clyde who was going to hike him the football. As he waited, his blue eyes settled on Kyle – and he smiled. While the redhead knew HE was supposed to distract Stan… it was hard not to get distracted himself; Stan had a great smile. He'd never really noticed it before.

When the play started again, he watched his best friend move around the field expertly before throwing the ball in a long pass toward Token. Slowing his run to a jog, Stan stopped a few feet away from Kyle – taking a moment to look at his best friend again with a cocky grin. Smiling back, the redhead slipped his tongue out and licked his bottom lip slowly. And to his surprise, Stan's expression seemed to shift.

Unfortunately, their moment didn't last long – because within the next second, Craig tackled Stan roughly to the ground.

"Craig, what the fuck?" Stan groaned, slowly getting up. "I didn't even have the ball." He complained; there was a small blush on his cheeks – perhaps he was embarrassed that his lapse of concentration had gotten him tackled in front of Kyle.

The other noirette stood up and gave Tweek a small smirk. "Embarrassed, Marsh?" He asked dully.

"Fuck you." Stan grumbled, brushing himself off as he walked back toward the field. Craig took another glance at Tweek – before he reluctantly followed.

Marjorine clapped her hands, amused. "Gee! T-That was a good one, Kyle." She smiled. "You distracted Stan from FOOTBALL… so… that's something!" She encouraged. Looking to the other, twitching blond in their midst, Marjorine nudged her. "Your turn, Tweek."

"_Arg_! Jesus, I-I don't know how to DO this stuff!" She trembled, taking another long drink from her thermos.

Marjorine looked around, "Oh! ... W-Well there's Christophe!" She pointed out. Looking over, the three females saw Christophe was indeed standing further off, off beside the row of bleachers smoking. He was probably waiting for Gregory. "Y-You should go flirt with him… that'll catch Craig's attention." She giggled.

"_Nngh_, I… I don't think that's a good idea!" Tweek blushed.

Kyle shrugged, "Aw come on, Tweek. Its kind of fun… besides, what's the worst that could happen?" The redhead encouraged.

Looking between his friends, Tweek shakily stood up and tentatively headed over toward the brooding Frenchman. Christophe glanced over and noticed Tweek approaching; he didn't seem surprised or turned off, but instead, just continued to smoke as he watched the blond get closer.

"U-Uh… _erm_… h-hi?" Tweek greeted awkwardly, a blush already painting her cheeks.

Christophe smirked, "…'Ello." He greeted back in a smooth, deep voice. "Can I 'elp you?"

"U-Um… _nngh_," Tweek kept her large eyes down nervously. "Y-You looked... kind of… lonely?" She said. The blond hadn't bothered to think of any REASON to talk to Christophe, and in hindsight, that was probably a bad idea.

While it was a lame excuse – and not really flirting at all – Christophe actually smirked. "Wut eef I am lonelee, ah? Are you prepared to 'elp me solve ze problem?" He purred, resting an arm alongside of Tweek's head; bordering the small female blond where she stood.

"_Nngh_, um…" Tweek's blush only increased. It was kind of hard to ignore that the Frenchman WAS rather good looking, even though he was kind of an asshole. But then again, Craig wasn't much better. Maybe deep down, Tweek just kind of had a thing for bad boys.

But Tweek didn't have time to even come up with an answer. Christophe's attention shifted to someone else, and the Frenchman stiffened visibly. Looking up – Tweek's eyes widened in fear as he saw Craig storming toward them with a furious look on his face. "O-Oh Jesus!" Tweek exclaimed as her hands flew over her mouth. Without breaking stride, Craig reached down and hoisted Tweek up and over his shoulder. "_GAH_! C-Craig!" The blond screamed nervously, clutching awkwardly onto his back, since it was the only thing she could see.

But Craig didn't answer – instead, he was having a stare off with Christophe.

"Ah," The brunette mused with a smirk. "I was nut aware zhat she belonged to you. Take wut eez yours." He nodded, voluntarily holding his hands up in mock surrender. Its not that he was scared of Craig, but really, why fight over a girl he wasn't even interested in?

The noriette glared jealously at Christophe, before storming off the field with Tweek still slung over his shoulder; shrieking and clinging to him with the fear of falling. Kyle and Marjorine watched all this unfold, of course, from a distance. "O-Oh…" Marjorine sighed innocently. "Well… t-that backfired."

"Hey!" Kyle yelled, figuring she might be able to stop Craig from behaving so badly. Jogging across toward the end of the bleachers, she was a bit dismayed to find that Craig was already half way around the corner with Tweek slung over his shoulder – by the time she reached Christophe. "Damn." She sighed.

Christophe tilted his head, now intrigued by the redheaded female. "Zhey are your friends?" He asked curiously.

"Christophe," Kyle sighed, rolling his eyes. "It's me. Kyle?"

The brunette quirked a brow and looked him up and down. "I… zee." He muttered.

"Yeah, yeah, get over it." Kyle huffed out a breath. "Cartman turned me, Tweek, and Butters into girls with some experimental serum that he stole from that weird scientist, Dr. Mafesto." She explained, shoving her hands into the pockets of her orange hoodie.

Christophe chuckled, "Ah.. zhat was Tweek. Eet makes more sense now." He mumbled; looking toward the direction that Craig had taken the blond. They'd disappeared – so Christophe looked back to Kyle. "You… on ze ozher 'and… look stunneeng." He purred.

"Uh… thanks." Kyle blushed, flicking her green eyes back up to Christophe.

Glancing over toward the field, then back to the redhead, the Frenchman trailed his eyes up and down Kyle's new female form. "Per'aps we should take a walk?" He suggested with a casual shrug, flicking his cigarette away.

"Oh, well… I was, um…" Kyle paused, glancing toward the field where his friends had resumed playing football, despite Craig's absence. They would probably be playing for a while – maybe he had time for a quick walk. "Sure, I guess?" The redhead shrugged with a small smile. "But we can't go too far. I've gotta be back here by the time they finish."

Smirking, Christophe nodded and took Kyle's hand – tugging the female along with him as they began to walk.

Meanwhile, Stan was glaring at his teammate. "Kenny, what the fuck?" He complained.

His blond friend had migrated off the field, and was currently sitting on the bleacher with Marjorine perched in his lap; giggling as he whispered into her ear. "What? Craig's gone… I made the teams even by sitting out." Kenny said, justifying leaving the game.

Sighing with a small growl, Stan rolled his eyes and looked over the bleachers – expecting to see Kyle sitting somewhere else. But he wasn't. Furrowing his brow, Stan began to look harder; concern written on his features as he searched for his best friend. Finally spotting a flash of red hair, Stan noticed Kyle wasn't alone. His recently turned female best friend was being led away by Christophe.

A swell of jealousy rose in Stan as he clenched his jaw; it took every ounce of his strength not to run over there and interrupt them. Where the hell were they going?

"Stan! Let's go, second down!" Clyde called impatiently as they waited around the ball.

Letting out an angry breath, Stan saw Kenny and Marjorine leaving the field as well before he turned and jogged back to the group.

* * *

"_Nngh_! C-Craig! Please put me DOWN!" The blond female begged as Craig dragged him back into the school. It was empty now, since school had been over for about an hour. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! _GAH_! D-Don't kill me!" Tweek trembled.

But Craig didn't answer; instead, he kept Tweek hoisted over his shoulder as he entered the boys change room and shut the door behind them. Finally he let Tweek down – the female stumbled onto wobbly legs and looked up toward her best friend with a terrified gaze. Craig's eyes were still darkly focused on the blond as he began to walk toward her. "I-I said I was SORRY!" Tweek stammered, biting her lower lip as her hands nervously fiddled with her shirt. "Jesus, don't KILL ME!" She screamed.

The noirette grasped either sides of Tweek's arms and pressed her forcefully against a row of lockers. Before the blond could spout any more theories about Craig wanting to 'kill' her – he covered her mouth with his own, planting a deep kiss on her lips. Tweek meekly resisted at first, but as Craig deepened the kiss… Tweek slowly began to give in. She moaned into his mouth as his tongue lapped at her lower lip. The blond anxiously opened her mouth, and made another audible noise as Craig slipped his tongue in.

Her hands moved up to clutch at the front of Craig's blue hoodie as he pressed against Tweek even tighter – closing the distance so it seemed like not even air would be able to pass through them. Sliding his hands down the female's sides, he wrapped his hands around Tweek's thighs, and hoisted the female up with little effort. She squeaked as he pulled her legs around his torso; forcing her to settle on his hips as he kept her forced against the change room lockers. "_Nngh_… C-Craig…" Tweek blushed.

Taking that as confirmation, Craig crushed their lips together again – before hoisting Tweek away from the lockers. He supported her small frame as he moved over to lay her down on the long, wooden bench that ran along the center on the room, between both rows of lockers. The blond moaned as her best friend positioned himself between her legs. Shoving Tweek's skirt up to her hips, he growled impatiently as he gripped her nylons. With a firm pull, he was able to rip open the seam along her thighs and up to her crotch. Tweek stammered something incoherently and blushed.

Craig saw that the blond was just wearing simple white panties… and while it might have seemed a bit anti-climactic or boring to others – for someone who liked things dull, Craig had never been more turned on. Besides, seeing something so plain on someone as erratic as Tweek? God damn. "_Fuck_, Tweek…" He moaned huskily, moving right down atop her to claim her already swollen lips while his hands fumbled with his the zipper on his black jeans.

* * *

Kenny was already thrusting his tongue in and out of Marjorine's mouth as they sat at the edge of the school property, near the chain link fence that bordered into a nearby field. They were far enough from the football plain and the school itself that no one would see them.

"God, I hope you're planning to stay like this…." Kenny breathed out in a husky moan, as Marjorine rubbed her hips down against Kenny's as he sat with her in his lap.

The small female giggled, and bit back her own small moan as she felt Kenny's erection through his pants against the inside of her thigh. His hands were currently roaming beneath her short kilt and tugging at the hem of her Hello-Kitty panties. "Well, gee… I was sure plannin' on it…" The blond purred playfully into Kenny's ear, giving it a little nip.

"Fuckin' cocktease." Kenny groaned, lying back onto the grass with Marjorine on top of him. "I didn't know you had it in you, Butters; this… kinky side." The blond grunted, placing his hands firmly on Marjorine's hips as he dry humped up against her slowly, but eagerly.

Marjorine blushed, biting her lower lip as a small whine escaped her throat from his administrations. "I've always liked you, Kenny…" She admitted in a sweet tone. "I-I'm just glad you've started to notice me."

"I noticed you _before_, Butters." The McCormick teen reassured the female quickly. "I just never thought you'd be interested. I'm not exactly the pick of the litter." He grinned.

The blond glared at him strongly, "N-Now that's not TRUE, Kenny!" Marjorine pouted. "You're a great guy! You're funny and-and sexy… and… and adventurous, and… and handsome…" She trailed off dreamily as she slid down his body, beginning to undo his jeans with nimble fingers.

For some reason, he didn't really care that Marjorine hadn't called him smart, honest, or nice. Fuck it.

Kenny's head shot up to watch the pigtailed blond – already aware of what she was going to do, and incredibly eager to watch. He groaned submissively when Marjorine slipped a hand down the unzipped fly of his jeans, and rubbed the bulge in his boxers. "F-Fuck… _mmph_…" The McCormick teen grunted, lifting his hips into her touch. When her tentative rubbing became teasing pokes and trailing fingers – Kenny couldn't take it any more. Sitting up quickly, he was on top of her in a second, hiking her kilt up as his hands explored her waist and began to tug off those sexy Hello-Kitty panties.

"Y-You're going to _fuck_ me, Kenny?" Marjorine asked sweetly; there was a hint of playful maliciousness to her tone that only turned him on more. "Are you going to … _mph_… fuck me right here?"

Kenny growled and rubbed his erection between the apex of her legs, causing the small female to moan and bite her lower lip. "Fucking right I am…" He purred.

* * *

Kyle was lying on his bed reading his history textbook when his door flung open. The female jumped a bit when she saw Stan barge in and close the door behind him. "Dude, what the fuck?" Kyle breathed, giving his best friend a shy smile. "You scared the shit out of me." The redhead sat up on his bed. "What's up?" He had gotten home a few hours ago; instead of returning to the football field after leaving with Christophe, Kyle had just decided to come home. He had intended to call Stan, but after supper he'd become engorged in his homework like he so often was.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" Stan asked bitterly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the closed door. "Was it because the game was too boring? … Or because some asshole Frenchman smooth talked you?" He asked sarcastically. He wanted Kyle to know that he'd seen them walk away; and behaving like an immature child about it was the only way Stan could get it out.

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "Sorry, I just… didn't think it would be that big of a deal." The redhead shrugged awkwardly. While Stan could tell that his best friend wanted to drop the subject… a small blush coloring Kyle's cheeks implied that the subject might be a bit sensitive.

"What did you guys do?" He found himself asking in a somewhat accusatory tone.

The redhead looked up to him sheepishly. "Nothing really, I…" Kyle stopped himself and started picking at his fingernails. "We made out a little." The female admitted, letting out a sigh. While Kyle didn't really want to TELL Stan, he knew his friend would keep pressing. It was better to get this over with now; besides, the guilt had been eating away at him ever since he got home.

"You made out with _Christophe_?" Stan snapped in disbelief. "What the hell? Why!" Really, it was none of his business… and Stan knew that. But he just couldn't believe Kyle would make out with that French piece of shit.

The redhead looked down, "I dunno," He shrugged sheepishly. "… Craig carried off Tweek, and I have no doubt he's currently fucking the girl's brains out right now. And Butters was embracing this new lifestyle, and I'm sure the same can be said about him and Kenny." Kyle explained. "I guess I just… wanted to feed my curiosity."

"But…" Stan said, his mouth gaping open at the thought of Kyle making out with Christophe; the idea that the Frenchman probably felt up his best friend was making him more agitated. "W-Why HIM?" He finally asked, moving over to sit on the bed with Kyle. "Why… why didn't you ask _me_?"

Kyle looked up at Stan, a bit surprised that his best friend would come right out and say it. "Well… it's not like it didn't cross my mind, Stan." He admitted with a blush. "But aren't you worried what something like that might do to our friendship?" Kyle asked gently, peering up into his friend's ocean blue eyes with his emerald green ones. "I mean, what happens when I change back? Won't it be awkward?"

"I don't th—" Stan stopped himself from continuing. He wanted to say that he didn't think so; hell, part of him even wanted to rally for Kyle to stay like this a little longer. Would it really be so bad? "You're right." The raven nodded. "You're right. It's a bad idea." He agreed reluctantly, giving Kyle a sad smile. "I guess Tweek and Craig, and Kenny and Butters, can handle crossing that line because… they aren't as close as we are."

The redhead stared at his best friend sadly. "Yeah."

Why did Kyle suddenly feel his heart sink in disappointment? Had he really been hoping that Stan might argue against him? Maybe act on impulse?

"Well, I should go." Stan smiled – breaking Kyle away from his thoughts. "I'll see you at school tomorrow." He nodded; the raven-haired teen didn't look any happier than Kyle about the situation, but both of them had on a brave front.

Kyle nodded, "Sure dude." He gave his friend a weak smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Even after Stan left his room – Kyle found himself staring at the closed door. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he suddenly yearning for his best friend? He hadn't really thought of Stan as a prospect before… really, because they were both guys. They'd always been close, but now Kyle was feeling a strange urge to be even more than close. Making out with Christophe had been fine – the French were still good kissers, it would seem. But Kyle had stopped their activity before it went too far; first of all, he knew he wasn't going to stay a female… and secondly… he felt guilty. The whole time he had felt like he was somehow cheating on Stan.

Groaning to himself, Kyle flopped back onto his bed. Being a girl was way more complicated than being a guy.

* * *

Arriving at school the next day, Kyle wasn't surprised to see his friends crowded around their lockers. Craig was holding the still-female Tweek against him possessively… while Kenny was sitting on the ground with his back against their lockers; Marjorine perched happily in his lap with her arms around his neck.

Kyle rolled his eyes as he made his way over to them. "So I take it you both don't CARE about changing back anymore?" The redhead asked frustratedly.

"Tweek's not changing back." Craig told him in a firm answer; his grip only tightening around the small blond, causing her to squeak.

Marjorine just shook her head, "W-Well gee, I don't really wanna turn back either!" She giggled, snuggling further into the arms of a very happy looking Kenny McCormick.

"Why do YOU want to change back, Kyle?" The McCormick teen asked curiously with a grin. "Was your fuck-session with Stan not as fun as you thought it would be?"

Kyle's eyes widened; "What? Stan and I did NOT fuck."

"Really?" Kenny asked, tilting his head.

Craig smirked, "You're the only ones then." He trailed his eyes up and down Kyle. "I don't blame you, though. Who would want to fuck Marsh?" The noirette scoffed.

"Shut up, Craig." Stan spoke up, arriving at the lockers in time to hear his semi-rival bad mouthing him to his best friend. "If Kyle wants to change back, then we should let her… Er, him." He corrected himself.

Craig shook his head, "Whatever." Looking to the small blond in his arms, Craig gave him a sly wink. "Let's go out for a cigarette before class." He purred, tugging Tweek along with him.

Rolling his eyes, Kyle turned and began to put some books into his locker, while taking others out for his first period class. Stan's locker was right next to him – and his best friend was currently doing the same thing.

"So, listen," Stan started, clearing his throat. "If you want someone to go with you to Mafesto's… weird… hideout thing," He smirked. "I'll go. I want to make sure you get what you want and he doesn't… you know… try to give you two more asses, or something."

Kyle actually laughed at the joke and shook his head. "Thanks, Stan. That means a lot." He smiled as they both went back to fussing around in their lockers. But before long, Kyle found himself glancing back toward Stan; he liked the way his dark hair fell across his forehead… it was long, but not too long or unkempt. He had broad shoulders and a toned body from playing football – and his eyes were a startling, vibrate blue. How he was still single, Kyle would never know.

"Why don't you have a girlfriend?" Kyle found himself blurting out.

When Stan looked at him with an odd look, the redhead blushed so deeply that he almost matched his now long, wavy red hair. "Um…" He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward smile. "I dunno, I guess my standards are just too high." Stan shrugged. "Let's be honest – any girl I've ever gone out with has had to compete with you. I guess I just figured I could hold out until I found someone who was just like you; smart, passionate, stubborn, funny… and… whatever?"

"How eloquently put." Kyle said, rolling his eyes.

Both friends stayed away from the topic as they headed to class… but neither one could stop thinking about it. Stan wanted to ask Kyle to hold off on going to Mafesto for a few days – what was the real harm in doing something together? Of course there was the possibility that it could ruin their friendship, but deep down, Stan didn't think ANYTHING could ruin their friendship. Kyle, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel _flattered_ that Stan had been using him as a template for his girlfriends all these years. So why did he feel so sad? So guilty?

* * *

As the day progressed, Kyle noticed Stan was becoming more and more distant. It wasn't really a good sign, and it worried the redhead significantly. Right before he was going to head to his last class of the day – Stan hijacked him and dragged the redheaded female outside. "Stan, what the hell?" Kyle asked worriedly.

Once they were out of the school, the redhead couldn't help but notice his best friend was staring at him sadly - a hint of intensity lingering behind his eyes. "Ok, look," Stan sighed sadly. "I know I can't convince you to stay this way because… well, it's YOUR choice. And you should do whatever YOU want… whatever will make YOU happy." He began. "But what I'm about to do is for your sake. It's... an option." He muttered.

Kyle furrowed his brow, and was about to ask Stan what he was talking about – before suddenly his breath was taken away from him. His best friend wrapped his arms around the female's waist and pulled her close to him.

"S-Stan, I…" The redhead began, but she was silenced when Stan claimed her lips in a kiss.

His mind was frantically working overtime trying to convince him that this _was_ awkward; that Stan wasn't a good kisser, and this was a horrible idea.

Unfortunately, in the battle between the heart and the brain… the heart always won out. Instead of fighting it, Kyle could only sink into the kiss; wrapping his arms around Stan's broad shoulders. Both couldn't help but moan as their tongues lightly began to tease one another.

After only a few moments, the two parted from the kiss; completely winded as their eyes glossed over.

"Stan…" Kyle mumbled. "I… I d-don't know…" The female admitted sadly.

His best friend looked as though he'd just had his heart ripped out. "Why not?" He pressed sadly. "What would be so terrible? … This town might not be the most tolerant when it comes to religion or sexuality… but what's wrong about _this_? We'd just be a guy and a girl who really like each other – who date and… love one another." Stan continued, nestling his nose against Kyle's. "You're the girl I've been looking for; the girl that I imagined in my head as the _perfect_ one." He admitted. Taking a deep breath, Stan wrapped his arms even tighter around Kyle. "Don't take her away from me." He pleaded.

"S-Stan, don't do this to me." The redhead said, a small whine escaping the back of her throat as she pulled herself out of his arms. "It won't work… we… we CAN'T do this. You're asking me to turn my life upside down! My old life will be like some kind of fucked up dream, where I was _once_ a guy. I-I don't know if I can LIVE like this." He explained; his emerald eyes were already welling up with regretful tears. "I know Butters and Tweek seem ok with it… but they aren't me."

The raven-haired teen stared sullenly at his best friend, before he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "You're right," He mumbled. "I'm sorry." Taking a deep breath, Stan began to head back into the school before he stopped, "You're cool if I don't go with you to Mafesto's… right?" Stan asked sadly. "I'd rather just try and sleep this whole thing off… and wake up tomorrow to find my best friend back to normal." He offered, giving the redhead a touching smile.

"Y-Yeah… sure." Kyle nodded, feeling his own heart wrench at the sight of his best friend disappearing back inside.

* * *

Stan couldn't stop obsessing over the whole thing. He'd already been home for hours – but instead of eating, resting, or catching up on his overdue homework… all he'd been able to do was sit, and think about Kyle. He felt stupid for throwing himself at his best friend. After all, Kyle was the rationale one - so if HE was worried about ruining their friendship, then Stan should be worried too.

Still…

While Kyle might be uncomfortable as a female – Stan had never felt so infatuated with his best friend. She had literally been everything he'd ever imagined as his dream girl; the girl who he could depend on when he and Kyle eventually grew apart, and focused on career and family. He hated thinking that way, but so many people lost touch after high school. Stan just figured that... maybe… he could convince Kyle to stay a girl, and they could remain best friends. Maybe something more; that kiss had been the most amazing, and the most honest, experience of his life to date. It had felt right.

When his cell phone vibrated, Stan picked it up and saw the caller ID read: **KYLE**

"Hey!" Stan said eagerly. "Did you go see Mafesto?" He asked.

The raven-haired teen couldn't help his heart from fluttering when Kyle answered, "Yeah. I'm on my way over." He told him. "I'll be up in about two minutes."

"Cool." He nodded to himself and they hung up.

Standing up from his bed, Stan straightened out his appearance. At least he'd have his best friend back. Maybe they'd even be able to look back on this whole thing and laugh.

Hearing footsteps in the hall, he turned around and looked at the door expectantly. But what he saw surprised him. Kyle walked in… but he still had long hair; his face was still beautifully framed like a girl, and his body retained its lithe, female curves. "Kyle?" It was the only word he managed to get out; he had to clear his throat since he was having a hard time speaking. "What happened? Did Mafesto not have an antidote?" Stan asked worriedly.

"I don't know, Stan." Kyle muttered, keeping his emerald green eyes on his best friend as he walked toward him. "I didn't go. I… changed my mind…" He admitted with a sheepish blush.

Stan's mouth hung open a bit. "R-Really?" He asked; he was almost certain that this was a dream. Maybe he'd dozed off while he'd been sitting on his bed? But the feeling of Kyle sliding his slender arms around his waist confirmed that this was no dream.

"I couldn't bring myself to take away your dream girl." The redhead smiled gently. "I always said I would do anything for you, Stan. We're super best friends and that's never going to change. So if this is what you want… I'm going to give it to you." Kyle smiled.

Leaning in, the two kissed for only a brief moment, before Stan pulled away. His friend looked to him with confusion written on her features. "Kyle… I do want this, but I'm not going to force you to be unhappy. I just want to have you around; whether you're a boy or a girl." He sighed. "I don't want you to sacrifice your own happiness for me."

To his surprise, Kyle gave him another warm smile. Closing the distance between them once more – the redhead kissed Stan deeper this time; sliding her arms up to drape around his neck while his hands tentatively wrapped around her waist.

"Well… maybe I realized that making you happy would make me happy." Kyle explained in a hushed voice. "Maybe being able to be with _you_... makes _me_ happy." The female admitted.

Stan could barely contain the smile from growing on his lips. "Are you sure?"

"Stop asking, you fucking pussy." Kyle huffed, rolling her eyes before their lips met again.

This time neither one of them pulled away.

* * *

E N D

lol hogwash gender-bending xD Just felt like doing this. Apparently this is a rather LONG one-shot too lol, so apologies. I just couldn't stop it without making sure to wrap up all the couples.


	12. Tug, Tug :: Bunny

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD... like all of my other stories lol

Pairings: Butters/Kenny

Inspired By: sakurapanda's 'no title Bunny' scrap on DeviantArt, which features Butters and Kenny. I was just really intrigued by it, and decided I'd write a one-shot about a possible story lol xD

Notes I: sakurapanda pic can be found on her DeviantARt: h t t p : / / s a k u r a p a n d a . d e v i a n t a r t . c o m / g a l l e r y / # / d 2 7 u 5 9 b

Notes II: Just use your imagination to fill in any questions you might have haha – I just love sakurapanda's work

Chapter Song: Elephant Parade – by – Jon Brion (beautiful song)

* * *

"Know how I know you're gay?" Stan smirked, leaning against his locker as he watched Kenny. "You've got a mirror in your locker."

The blond McCormick teen had been admiring his own, attractive reflection in the small mirror that was magnetized to the inside of his small locker. Was it a crime to make sure you looked good? Well, Kenny didn't think so. Granted, he didn't have to TRY to look good… the teen's roguish good looks, jagged blond hair and piercing blue eyes could charm the pants off anyone; including the teachers, successfully keeping Kenny out of trouble when he stumbled upon it.

Kenny grinned, looking past his open locker to Stan. "Know how I know you're gay? You've got a picture of a dolphin in yours." He shot back with a cheeky smile.

"Know how I know you're gay?" The raven-haired teen continued. "You constantly put on chapstick."

Again, the blond grinned. "Know how I know you're gay? You stare at my lips, obviously keeping track of how much I put on chapstick."

"Fuck you." Stan laughed.

"By all means." He purred in response, laughing as Kyle joined them.

Stan seemed to brighten with excitement as his super best friend joined them, "Hey Kyle? … Know how I know you're gay?" He asked, trying to bring the redhead into the mix.

Unfortunately, the joke seemed lost on him.

"Because you stuck your tongue down my throat last night?" He asked, clearly missing the point of the game – and instead, killing the joke by answering realistically.

Stan broke out into a deep blush, while Kenny laughed and closed his locker – slinging his messenger-style bag across his shoulders. "You couldn't have given a better answer."

"Whatever," The raven mumbled, clearing his throat awkwardly. "You ready for that test in first period?" He asked, turning his attention to the redhead that seemed to be the object of his desire.

Kenny tuned out of their conversation; the topic of 'school' wasn't really all that interesting to him. His hands moved around his waist, patting his jeans and the pockets of his parka as he tried to feel around for his cigarettes. He probably still had time to have a smoke before class began.

But a small tug on the back of his parka captured his attention, and as he turned curiously – he found himself looking down toward a short, small boy he knew instantly. Butters Stotch. Sadly, the normally smiling and chipper boy was nothing of the sort this morning; instead, his eyes were welled up with tears as they peered up at him with a pleading expression. "K-Kenny?" He asked meekly. "C-Can you get my knapsack for me?" The small blond sniffled. A soft blush was tinting his otherwise pale cheeks, and he seemed almost embarrassed to be asking.

"Where is it?" He asked, quirking a brow.

Butters let out a quick sigh, bumping his fists together in that adorable way of his. "W-Well, um… E-Eric kind of… tossed it into a tree." He admitted sheepishly. "And I can't reach."

Glancing toward his friends to see they were still chatting amongst themselves, Kenny's heart DID lurch toward the small boy and he nodded. "Alright, show me." He mumbled. "I'll be right back." He told Kyle and Stan – who simply nodded and continued with their own conversation.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his parka, the taller teen followed the smaller one back down the school halls until they emerged outside. Flipping his long, jagged blond hair away from his face with a slight gesture of his head – Kenny found himself standing in front of a tree located just out front of the school. Sure enough, a Hello-Kitty baby blue and pink knapsack was hooked a few branches up.

"See?" Butters choked out softly, pointing up.

Kenny nodded, "Yeah, I see." He replied. Reaching up, the limber McCormick teen hopped up and gripped the nearest branch. Hoisting himself up with relative ease – Kenny began to scale a few of the branches, before he finally reached the wedged knapsack. Taking it in his left hand, he used his right to steady himself as he climbed back down, and nimbly fell back onto the ground.

"W-Well gee, thanks Kenny!" The small blond gushed with a bashful smile as he gazed up toward Kenny with an idolizing look. "I tried to get it myself, b-but I just ended up scrapin' my hand." He explained, holding his flat palm up to show Kenny the small series of scrapes there.

He gasped when Kenny grasped his hand and tugged him forward a bit. Butters' lost his breath for a moment as the McCormick teen pressed his open palm to his lips, and placed a soft, tender kiss there. "Feel better?"

"Oh, I-I... um, wuh.. ha-haba..." Butters stammered incoherently; his blush only increasing as his free arm clutched to his recently rescued Hello-Kitty knapsack. Nervously, the small blond tugged his hand out of Kenny's grip, and wrapped it around his knapsack with his other arm as a deeper blush settled on his cheeks. "T-Thanks for getting it back, Ken." He smiled, turning those big, beautiful blue eyes back up to the taller teen.

Kenny smirked. "Anytime." Taking a step forward, the blond placed his index finger beneath Butters' chin and lifted it up. "Let me know if you've got scrapes anywhere else." He purred.

"G-Golly," Butters giggled. "Maybe… a small one on my cheek. B-But you can't see it… it's… really small…" He coaxed, giving Kenny a playful, innocent smile.

The taller teen smirked devilishly and wrapped his long arms around the blond. "I see it." He confirmed. "But it's not exactly on your cheek." He told him.

Butters furrowed his brow with an adorably cute expression that portrayed his confusion. "I-It's not?" He asked, wondering if there was in fact a scrape on his face that he was unaware of.

Any and all possible thoughts crossing his mind immediately flew out of Butter's head, when Kenny captured his lips in a deep, sweet kiss. The smaller blond's eyes grew as large as saucers in shock – and remained that way until Kenny pulled back. The McCormick teen didn't seem too phased, and kept a satisfied smile on his lips. Raising his thumb, he brushed it over Butters' still gaping lips.

"Got it." Kenny smirked. Leaning in, he gave a small puppy-esq lick to Butters' bottom lip, before he moved away and began to head inside - his hands returning to the pockets of his parka.

The small blond watched him go. "O-Oh… hamburgers…" He sighed in a whisper, feeling his cheeks heating up all over again as his crush disappeared back into the school.

He hugged his Hello-Kitty knapsack to him a bit tighter, and smiled.


	13. Independence :: Twistophe

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD... like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings:** Tweek/Christophe, Tweek/Craig

**Summary:** Unlikely... but probable.

**Notes I:** Someone asked me to do Christophe/Tweek lol... I can't for the life of me remember WHO - but here it is haha

**Notes II:** Just a quick one-shot, for what most would consider a 'crack' pairing haha just sit back and enjoy the fun

* * *

**SONG:** Not For All The Love In The World - by The Thrills

* * *

"Tweek, get the hell off me!" Craig growled - shoving the blond away from him. He stumbled back onto the ground with a 'thud', looking up toward the fuming noirette as he lorded over him. "What the fuck's wrong with you?" He snapped.

Tweek shuddered as his eyes began to well up with embarrassed, hurtful tears. Over the past few years of their friendship - Tweek had thought he and Craig were getting closer... almost passing the 'line' of friendship. Craig had always been nice to him - he'd looked out for him, comforted him, and didn't tease him like everyone else; at least, not maliciously. So, gathering up all his courage, Tweek had finally thrown caution to the wind - and kissed Craig.

Unfortunately, the noirette did NOT respond the way he'd hoped. Craig turned his head and tried to move away from the clinging blond... but his refusal only made Tweek more desperate to prove how much he loved him. He'd placed desperate, small kisses along his face and lips before Craig finally used that legendary, brute strength of his... and shoved the small, malnourished blond to the ground forcefully.

It had backfired in the worst way.

While Tweek knew it was unlikely ANYONE would want him... he'd actually gotten his hopes up when it came to Craig. He'd been so sure that the noirette felt the same. Apparently he was wrong, and now, his heart was literally ripping apart in his chest.

"I-I..." Tweek stammered, desperately trying to stop himself from crying; his lower lip trembled violently as he stared up at the tall raven-haired teen. "I'm... sorry, nngh... I t-thought..."

Craig turned and stormed off down the empty hall of their high school without another word, and disappeared out of sight. Tweek had waited for Craig, after his best friend had detention - so the school was empty. Now, Tweek could only hear his own quiet sobs in the hollow corridors. Standing up on shaky legs - Tweek picked up his knapsack and slung it over his shoulder. He heaved a few quick breaths as he tried to wipe the large tears spilling down the curves of his pale cheeks.

He had never felt so horrible.

Not only had his heart and affections been rejected by the ONE person he thought would love him back... but Tweek was convinced he'd just lost his best friend. There was no way Craig would forgive him for this. He'd always been careful not to cross the temperamental noirette, since Tweek was well aware of his 'grudge' history. He didn't like too many people, and Tweek had been privileged to call himself his best friend.

Sniffling and shaking, Tweek headed outside into the cold, brisk afternoon air - his head hanging down as he continued to weep.

Of course Craig wouldn't want him. NO one would. He was an absolute mess; his hair was never well kept, he was skinny and weird, and his eyes were larger than most other people he knew. He had a terrible addiction to coffee and rarely slept. Tweek Tweak was no catch... at least, not compared to someone like Craig Tucker - or Stan Marsh, or Clyde Donovan, or even Kyle Broflovski. All those boys had the confidence, the looks, and the personality to get who and what they wanted - and remain socially acceptable.

But not Tweek.

Rounding the corner of the high school, Tweek found himself stumbling backward after running smack into someone. Before he could topple over - a pair of firm hands grabbed his shoulders to steady him.

"Excusez-moi..." A gravely, deep voice followed. "I deed nut see you."

Tweek slowly opened his large, tear-filled hazel eyes to see a tall brunette teen standing in front of him. He recognized the boy as Christophe DeLorne. He was not great friends with the young man, but certainly knew enough about him. The Frenchman was a legendary myth within the walls of Park County High; from his daring 'escapes' - both his mercenary missions AND classes - to his mysterious past, and overall alluring demeanor. He had a relaxed, confident attitude that seemed to charm anyone.

The blond nodded, still trembling, and tried to walk around Christophe. But to his despair, the mercenary took a step to the side - blocking Tweek from passing him, as he looked him over curiously.

"Nngh!" Tweek shrunk back. "P-Please don't hurt me!" He begged weakly.

Christophe tilted his head, his cigarette dangling comfortably from between his lips. "I 'ave no reason to 'urt you." He said gently. "But I cannut 'elp but wondare why you are cryeeng." The brunette clarified.

"I-I... nngh..." Tweek turned his over-sized, pathetically vulnerable eyes to look up into Christophe's dark brown one, which were looking back to him curiously. Feeling more embarrassed NOW that someone was seeing him like this, Tweek buried his face into his hands and shook violently. "D-Don't look at me..." He begged. "I-I'm not... I can't..." He tried to speak, but couldn't. The whole day had been one big fuck up.

But Tweek stiffened when he felt Christophe slide his arms around him - and pull him close. While one of his arms laced around Tweek's thin, small torso, his other hand cradled his head; gently stroking the blond's unruly hair. "...'ush..." He purred.

Feeling completely drained, Tweek gave into the embrace, and clutched back onto Christophe; burying his head into the strong chest of the Frenchman. As he continued to cry, he took a moment to enjoy the warmth of having someone hold him; the comforting scent of cigarettes initially reminded him of Craig... but Christophe's natural scent was heavier - warmer than the noirette's. It was hard for Tweek to describe, but he liked it. He felt safe in Christophe's arms.

And it was rare for Tweek to feel safe with anyone other than Craig... especially with a teen he didn't know that well.

"I weel walk you 'ome," The brunette muttered gently.

While Tweek didn't want to pull away from the hug just yet (he so rarely was shown physical affection by anyone) - he nodded reluctantly, and tried to stand up straight. As he looked back up toward Christophe, the Frenchman lifted a hand, and wiped the remaining tears from Tweek's cheeks with his thumb. A small, reassuring smirk graced Christophe's lips before he reached down and took the blond's hand.

Tweek made a small noise, and clutched the brunette's offered hand tightly as they began to walk. "Where do you leeve?" Christophe asked.

"Nngh... a-a few blocks from here." He answered.

Christophe nodded and continued to walk in silence; occasionally, the blond would make a few noises, or stutter out some directions regarding which street to turn down - but otherwise, the walk was a simple, uneventful one. Tweek stole a few glances up toward the mysterious Frenchman, who seemed unnaturally calm and yet aware of their surroundings without much effort. He could only admire him. Maybe if HE had that much confidence, Craig would want something to do with him.

When they reached Tweek's house, Christophe tugged them both to a stop, and turned to stand in front of Tweek. Lifting his hands, he began to adjust Tweek's coat - and his scarf - and dried any remaining tears from his cheeks. "You must put on a strong face, oui?" He encouraged. "Zhere eez no room for weakness in zhis world. Show zhem 'ow brave you can be."

Tweek nodded and inhaled a shaky breath - doing his best to prove to Christophe that he COULD be brave. Christophe smiled at the small blond's attempt to straighten himself up and stop trembling; he was still quivering a bit, but he admired Tweek for trying, at least. Cupping the teen's smaller face in his hands, Christophe placed a light kiss on his forehead.

"Ok?" He asked.

The blond nodded, "Y-Yes..." He answered, giving Christophe a bashful, sweet smile. His eyes appeared to be thankful for the brief display of kindness and the company during the walk home.

"Bon." Christophe said, giving him a curt nod. "Go een." He muttered, motioning toward Tweek's house with a small gesture of his head. "Eet eez cold out."

Tweek agreed, and quickly scampered into his house. Quickly taking off his boots, he moved over toward their living room window and peeked out. Christophe had already started walking away - one of his hands holding his cigarette, while the other was stuffed into the pocket of his black pea coat.

He felt a small fluttering in the base of his stomach at the sight of the mysterious teen disappearing down the street...

* * *

While his brief interaction with Christophe had made Tweek feel a little better... the fact that he had to go to school the next day and face Craig quickly took that feeling away.

He'd even thrown up in some bushes on the way to school - his nerves were wreaking havoc on his entire body... even coffee didn't help. That being said, he DID down his thermos of coffee quicker than usual.

When he got to his locker, Tweek kept his eyes down and focused on the contents inside his bag - knowing his friends were standing further off to the side, chatting amongst themselves.

"Hey Tweek." Clyde greeted casually.

The blond flinched, and nodded; still keeping his eyes down. He couldn't bear to look in their direction, since he could already catch the sight of Craig's familiar, blue chullo out of the corner of his eye. If he looked over at them - he'd be forced to look at Craig... and if he had to do that, he might break down crying again. Feeling those nerves bubbling uncomfortably in his stomach again - Tweek tried to take another swig from her thermos, but was dismayed to find it empty.

"Nngh... o-oh..." The blond whimpered, opening the lid and peering down into the empty thermos - as if he was checking to make sure it WAS really empty.

Craig had been watching the blond ever since he arrived; a sense of resentment and guilt conflicting inside his mind. When he heard Tweek whimper due to the lack of coffee in his thermos, Craig rolled his eyes.

He was always the one who had to get him more coffee and calm him down when he began to freak out. The kid just couldn't take care of himself.

"Bonjour."

The smooth voice of Christophe caught Craig's attention - and his eyes flickered over to see the Frenchman standing next to Tweek. He expected Tweek to freak out - and Craig felt the urge to do what he normally did: step in to defend him. But to his surprise, Tweek did NOT freak out. Instead, he gave the brunette a bashful smile.

"I brought you zhis..." Christophe muttered, handing Tweek a fresh, large coffee in a to-go cup.

The blond blushed, nibbling on his lower lip. "T-Thank you..." He stammered; taking the cup in his hands and pouring it's content into his travel thermos. Seeing no garbage around, Tweek placed the empty to-go cup in his locker, so he could throw it away later.

"Are you readee for class?" He asked, casually leaning against the row of lockers beside Tweek's.

Tweek nodded, "I-I, um... nngh... y-yes, I..." He stammered.

"Bon." Christophe smirked. "We can go, zhen."

The blond looked up to the taller brunette curiously. "Erm, nngh... I... didn't know you were -nngh- in my class..." He admitted shyly.

"I know." The Frenchman chuckled. "I prefer to keep to myzelf."

Tweek gave him a sweet smile. "O-Oh..." He answered; Christophe's answer made him feel a little less guilty about not noticing him. Then again, Tweek was rather oblivious sometimes; he was always so wrapped up in his own paranoia and thoughts that he rarely acknowledged anyone outside his limited 'friend' circle.

"Come." Christophe purred, gesturing with a small tilt of his head for Tweek to follow. The blond nodded and shut his locker - clutching his books tightly to his chest as they began to walk down the hall.

As the pair went to pass Craig, Clyde and the others - Tweek kept his eyes focused on the ground. Christophe, however, took the opportunity to bump Craig's shoulder as he passed. The noirette was forced to shift as a result of the bump - and glared at the back of the Frenchman's head as he passed. He had to seriously restrain himself from going after the cocky brunette who was now 'escorting' HIS best friend. Well, his previous best friend.

During their class, Tweek found he was more interested in stealing glances at Christophe than he was in paying attention to the teacher's lecture. Despite his somewhat 'scruffy' appearance, Tweek couldn't deny that Christophe was good looking. He had attractive features, deep eyes, and confidence simply oozed out of his body effortlessly.

When they left class, the two parted ways for the second period class - and Tweek was again alone. He felt anxious, and found he missed Christophe's reassuring presence. It wasn't a shock to him, though, since he'd felt the same way around Craig. Tweek had spent most of his life depending on other people for protection, for comfort and reassurance. Now that he'd lost Craig, he wanted to instinctively latch on to the only other person who'd shown him some kind of attention.

As his second period ended, Tweek eagerly headed toward the cafeteria in search of the Frenchman. But as he passed one of the many cafeteria tables in the forum, Tweek felt something catch his foot - and he stumbled onto the ground; wincing in pain as his knees and hands crashed against the ground.

"Have a nice trip, Tweek?" The malicious laugh of Fosse rang through his ears. His partner-in-crime Bill chucked moronically from beside him.

Feeling his lip trembling, and the tears coming, the blond tried to stand up. But a reassuring grip on his arm assisted him, and Tweek found himself looking up to the tall, French brunette he'd been searching for.

"Are you goeeng to let zhem get away with zhat?" Christophe asked firmly.

Tweek trembled and blushed, "I-I... -nngh- there's nothing I can..." He began to stammer.

"Ztand up for yourzelf," The Frenchman instructed - holding up a can of soda. "You are goeeng to 'ave to learn." He said.

The blond looked between Christophe, the can of soda, and Fosse - who still sat at his table, talking with fellow bully, Bill. Feeling a small ball of resentment turning in his stomach, Tweek boldly took the soda - and threw the can at the back of Fosse's head with a small noise.

It hit the back of the teen's head smack on, and he tensed in shock as the soda dripped down his head and around his back. Bill began to laugh as his friend stood up - and angrily turned his sights on Tweek. Storming toward them, Tweek trembled, but actually kept his stance... trying to be brave.

But before Fosse could reach him, Christophe stuck out his foot and tripped the bully to the ground. He fell face first with a thud, and the brunette crouched down to his level. "...'ave a nice treep?" He asked darkly.

"Fuck you," Fosse frowned. "This isn't any of your business."

Christophe tilted his head, "Oh, but eet eez." He growled calmly. "You started eet. 'E retaliated. Ze confrontation eez ovare." The brunette reminded him; Fosse had gotten his shot, and Tweek had gotten one back. It was only fair. "You 'ave no reason to get 'im back. Eef you do nut want zhings thrown at you... zhen don't start sheet." He warned.

Fosse looked between Christophe - then up to Tweek - before he reluctantly stood, and went fuming back to his own table. Turning back to the blond, the brunette gave him a reassuring smile, and led him to an empty table where they could sit.

"...'ow deed zhat feel?" He asked smoothly.

Tweek flicked his eyes back to Fosse's table, before looking back to Christophe with a small, bashful smile. "G-Good..." He muttered. "Nngh... b-but I'm sure he'll... c-come back at me." He said worriedly.

"Zo?" Christophe shrugged. "At leest you stood up for yourzelf... and in ze long run, zhat weel 'elp you more. We all take a few beetings in ordare to build confidence, oui? Eet eez just a part of life."

The blond nodded slowly. While he was still skittish and frightened of confrontation - he had to admit that Christophe had a good point. If he'd been with Craig, the noirette simply would have attacked Fosse; beaten him up or reamed him out for tripping Tweek. But instead, Christophe encouraged him to stand up for himself, while offering him some support.

Both teens sat together for the rest of the lunch period; the conversation was subtle - though they went through periods of silence. At one point, Tweek muttered something about a conspiracy theory involving the CIA, which Christophe dismantled with logical rationale. As it turned out, he ALSO didn't trust the CIA... and managed to calm Tweek down better than anyone else ever had.

Why? Because Christophe went to that paranoid place WITH him - and talked him down. Normally, his friends like Craig, Token or Clyde would simply disregard his paranoia or ignore him; perhaps tell him his theories were stupid. But oddly enough, Christophe spoke to Tweek rationally - and admitted his theories were possible... but unlikely. It made him feel much better about himself, and that was something Tweek hadn't felt in a long time.

When they began to part ways from the cafeteria for their remaining classes - Tweek asked if Christophe would meet him after school, and the brunette agreed. Feeling rather light hearted from his 'confidence boost' during lunch, Tweek headed to his next period... that he, consequently, shared with Craig.

When he spotted the noirette sitting in his regular seat (which was beside Tweek's), the blond hesitated and wondered if he should sit somewhere else. But he remembered what Christophe had told him at lunch; his light encouragement that he should start standing up for himself more was still rattling in the back of his mind. There were always going to be setbacks - but the important thing was to hold your own.

Moving over to his seat, Tweek slid in - but kept his eyes down as he took a sip from his thermos.

"So you're hanging off Christophe now?" Craig snarled unhappily. "That kid's a bad influence. I heard he told you to throw a soda at Fosse after he tripped you." He began. "I hope you realize he's going to kick your ass the next chance he gets. You should have just walked away."

Tweek winced - feeling his fear clawing back through his system with Craig's belief that Fosse would STILL seek revenge... but he took in a deep, shaky breath. "M-Maybe I'm -nngh- tired of walking away..." Tweek muttered sadly.

There was an uncomfortable pause between them - like Craig couldn't believe Tweek had said something so 'profound'.

"Fine." He grumbled, sliding further into his seat as he crossed his arms. "Get the shit kicked out of you. I don't give a fuck." He spat. "You deserve it if you're going to keep listening to that French asshole."

The blond kept his eyes focused on the desk, and said nothing in response to the noirette's hostile attitude regarding his new friend. If Tweek didn't know any better... he might think Craig was jealous. But that theory was immediately pushed from his mind. He'd tried to show Craig how he felt, and his best friend rejected him. If it weren't for Christophe, Tweek would undoubtedly be dwelling on that whole ordeal: he would have been begging Craig to be with him, hell, he might have dismantled completely. But the Frenchman was providing a welcome distraction.

When class was over, Tweek clutched his books to him, and headed back into the halls. But for some reason, he felt uncomfortable... and he didn't know why.

"...Bonjour." Christophe suddenly appeared by his side.

Tweek smiled as the tall brunette began to walk with him. "Nngh, h-hey..." He greeted.

"Do you know zhat you are beeing followed?" He asked calmly.

The blond tensed, "Ack! W-What!" He exclaimed, beginning to tremble.

"...'ush." Christophe soothed, placing an arm loosely around Tweek's shoulders. "Eet eez just Craig."

Tweek looked up at him with wide, hazel eyes. "W-Why?" He asked.

"...'ow should I know?" The Frenchman responded with a smirk. "You tell me."

He sighed, trembling slightly as his bit his lower lip. "I-I... erm... h-he didn't... I just..." He stuttered, obviously uncomfortable with trying to explain what had happened.

"...'ey." Christophe purred, tightening his arm around Tweek comfortingly. "You do nut 'ave to tell me eef you don't want to." He shrugged.

Tweek looked back up to him sadly. "N-No, it's just... um..." He blushed. "M-Maybe you could -nngh- come over t-tonight?" He asked hesitantly. As soon as he asked, the blond regretted it. Why was he setting himself up for another rejection? Craig Tucker, the biggest asshole in school didn't want him. So clearly, no one else would either. Why did he do this to himself?

"Of course." Christophe agreed with a calm nod. "I weel be zhere around ten?" He suggested.

The small teen was stunned. The brunette actually accepted his offer. "Nngh! Y-Yes! T-That's ok!" He answered quickly, blushing furiously as he shuddered. When they reached Tweek's next class, Christophe stopped Tweek, and stood in front of him. He was staring down at him with a small, playful smirk. "W-What?" Tweek asked nervously.

"...'E eez steel watcheeng you." Christophe told him in a slightly sultry tone; referring to Craig, whom he'd noticed had stopped at a water fountain to 'mask' trailing them in the hall. "Show 'im 'ow independent you can be." He encouraged with a nod.

Tweek stared up at the confidant Frenchman; trailing his hazel orbs over his handsome face. Without thinking, the blond wrapped his arms around Christophe's neck - and kissed him sloppily on the lips.

When he pulled back, he saw the brunette staring at him... slightly shocked. "Nngh... o-oh..." He mumbled, his face turning beet red. "I-Is that -nngh- not w-what you meant?" Tweek asked, suddenly getting the impression that he'd crossed the line. AGAIN.

"No, zhat eez nut exactlee what I meant." Christophe agreed, quirking a brow. But just as Tweek's heart was beginning to sink with embarrassment - he felt the Frenchman's arms wrap around his thin waist. "But... I liked eet." He purred - a small smirk finally crossing his lips. "Eet definitely shows confidence." The brunette agreed with a small chuckle.

The blond gave an embarrassed smile back to the taller teen, and snuggled his head against his broad chest in silent thanks. Tweek took that brief moment of comfort; enjoying the feeling of Christophe lightly petting the back of his head, before he released him. "...'urry up." He nudged. "Classes are starteeng." He said.

Nodding, Tweek reluctantly moved away from Christophe and slipped into his classroom - sparing one last look out the door at the Frenchman.

As Christophe turned to leave, he saw Craig glaring daggers at him - his whole body almost trembling in anger. But the brunette didn't even blink. He just saluted Craig in a casual manner, before disappearing into the throng of students still cluttering the halls as they headed to their next classes.

* * *

Tweek drank several EXTRA cups of coffee when he got home from school to make sure he was wide-awake when Christophe came over; not that Tweek didn't consume unhealthy amounts of coffee ANYWAY on a regular night... but he was excited and nervous at the same time. The blond was still mystified that he'd actually KISSED someone who didn't immediately question him, or reject him.

Of course, he'd only kissed two people in his entire life. One was a girl he saw briefly when he was in the ninth grade... and that was only because Craig TOLD him he should date at least ONE girl. It didn't last very long. The second had, obviously, been Craig - and that had been a complete disaster.

Pacing around his room anxiously, Tweek continued to check his watch - growing more worried each minute that Christophe might ditch him. Maybe he wouldn't show up... maybe he was just playing around with Tweek... maybe he WAS part of the CIA, and this was some elaborate plan to-

Tick.

The blond jumped a bit at the unexplained sound. He stood as still as he could - covering his hands over his mouth as if to silence himself while he waited.

Tick.

Again, he heard it... only this time, Tweek was able to locate its whereabouts: his window. Moving over to it, the blond peered out into the darkness to see Christophe down below. Flinching, he blushed and opened his window. Without saying a word - the Frenchman began to scale the side of the lattes that bordered his home with relative ease, before he slipped into Tweek's room.

"Y-You're late... I thought you -nngh- weren't coming." Tweek admitted bashfully.

Christophe quirked a brow and looked at his watch. "Eet eez onlee 10:06." He corrected.

"Nngh... u-um... but you said ten, so... so I got worried t-that..." He began to stammer; slowly realizing how ridiculous it sounded that he assumed Christophe wasn't coming because it was six minutes after ten.

But to his relief, Christophe just chuckled, and ruffled his unruly blond hair. "You are razher adorable." He mused. The comment only made Tweek blush more, as he fiddled with his hands and tugged on the bottom of his shirt.

The two didn't launch into Tweek's history with Craig right away. Instead, Christophe was treated to a small 'tour' of Tweek's room, and saw his cherished memorabilia; each of which, had it's own unique story and theory to accompany it. Despite his erratic mannerisms, Christophe discovered that the blond was meticulous in where he placed things in his room and WHY. When it was almost a quarter to twelve, they decided to just put on a movie and relax. After popping the dvd of 'The Wizard of Oz' into his laptop, Tweek turned to go sit on the bed - but he was taken aback when Christophe was already lying on it.

Biting his lower lip, the blond tentatively got onto the bed beside him; but instead of lying, sat up. The movie began, but the volume was rather low (not that it mattered to either boy, since both had seen it multiple times during their childhood) - so Tweek clearly heard Christophe when he said: "Come 'ere..."

Tweek felt the Frenchman's hand curl around his arm, and tug him down to lie beside him. He complied, and gradually felt more relaxed as he curled up against the brunette's warm body; Christophe's arm lazily draped around his shoulders - while his fingers dipped into his jagged blond hair. "Zo... what eez eet zhat caused zhis... 'falleeng out' with your boyfriend?" He asked smoothly.

"H-He's not my boyfriend." Tweek admitted sadly. "I-I... h-he didn't feel the s-same way..." He muttered, turning his head further into Christophe's warm chest.

The Frenchman furrowed his brow as he kept his eyes on the laptop, "Eh... ze look on 'is face earlier was nut zhat of a boy 'o doez nut feel ze same way." He pointed out. "...'E almost looked a beet... jealous?"

"I-I... erm... nngh..." He stammered. "I-I don't think that's it..."

Christophe smirked. "Eef you zay zo." He mused. Turning onto his side, the brunette propped himself over Tweek - who was looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. "Zhen... I would nut be a veree good guest eef I did nut try to make you feel bettare, oui?" The Frenchman purred, running his hand up Tweek's slender leg to rest on his hip.

"U-Uh... nngh..." A heavy blush settled on Tweek's cheeks as he gazed up at the Frenchman. "I-I... you don't h-have to."

The brunette tilted his head. "What eff I WANT to?" He answered, dipping his head down to brush his lips against Tweek's. The blond couldn't help but shudder at the sensation. Lowering his head further, their lips met in a slow, tender kiss; Christophe's tongue teasingly running across Tweek's bottom lip.

"Ungh... nngh..." The needy moan passed Tweek's lips without a beat - and before he knew it, Christophe was deepening the kiss - shifting his broader body over the small blond as his hands began to undo the front of Tweek's pants. He shifted eagerly beneath Christophe's administrations - lapping his tongue against the brunette's in quick, desperate motions. While Tweek didn't think the gesture was doing any good, he heard a low, guttural moan come from the back of Christophe's throat.

Tweek gasped as he felt Christophe's hand slide inside his open pants; cupping his growing erection through his boxers. A whine passed his lips and disappeared into the brunette's mouth. He expertly rubbed him - making him harder and harder as his lips traveled down the smooth column as Tweek's neck. The blond bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, as he arched his body into Christophe's.

"I-I... nngh... p-please!" Tweek begged, wrapping his arms around Christophe's neck and lacing his fingers into his scruffy brown hair.

Popping open the buttons on Tweek's shirt, Christophe licked and kissed his way down the blond's small chest; lapping a wet trail above and around his belly button as his hands tugged Tweek's pants down a little more. Firmly grasping his hips, Christophe lowered his head and licked the fabric of Tweek's boxers; nibbling and gnawing gently at the bulge there.

"Ungh!" Tweek cried, gripping Christophe's hair tighter between his fingers. "G-God!" He shuddered, thrusting his boxer-clad hips toward Christophe's face as he continued to tease him.

But then he felt Christophe pull away. Tweek whimpered as he looked down to the attractive teen looming over him. "Are you sure you want to do zhis?" He panted heavily.

"Y-Yes! Nngh! P-Please!" He begged.

Christophe smirked and moved back on his knees - tugging Tweek up to a sitting position in front of him as he still straddled his hips. A bit higher than Tweek now (since he was kneeling and Tweek was sitting), Christophe ran his hand appreciatively through the blond's unruly hair. Tweek gazed up at him with large, adoring hazel eyes as his hands began to shakily undo the front of Christophe's black jeans. The Frenchman took a few deep breaths as his eyes began to glaze over with dark lust as he watched the blond work. Tweek tugged Christophe's jeans down past his hips, so his own boxers were exposed.

Biting his lower lip, Tweek ran a curious, tentative hand over the erection pressed against the front of Christophe's boxers. The Frenchman moaned, lulling his head back as his hand tightened in Tweek's hair - urging him on. Reaching down, Christophe peeled off his own dark green t-shirt and tossed it to the side; permitting Tweek to lean forward and place tentative, sweet kisses along his toned stomach and abs.

As Tweek's groping hand became bolder, a switch seemed to go off in Christophe's head - and his control wavered. He pushed Tweek back onto the bed, flat on his back, before he followed after and captured the blond's lips in a deep, hungry kiss. He began to thrust their hips together with increased fervor and anticipation...

* * *

When Tweek opened his eyes, it was morning. He still found himself curled around Christophe - who was lying on his back. The blond's head was resting on his toned chest, listening to the comforting sound of the his heartbeat. Tweek's large, bleary eyes looked over at his clock and saw it was 7am.

"C-Christophe..." He said meekly, nestling his head beneath the brunette's chin again.

The Frenchman groaned and let out a long sigh, as he adjusted his arms around Tweek and dipped his nose into his caramel-scented blond hair. "Eet eez too earlee." He mumbled.

"But we -nngh- still h-have school." Tweek reminded him worriedly; like being 'late' was their biggest problem.

Looking up at Christophe, he saw the brunette smiling. "Ah oui..." He answered.

Tweek smiled sweetly, and snuggled back down against Christophe.

Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing if they were a bit late...

* * *

For the next month - Tweek and Christophe only got closer. But for Tweek, it was like no other relationship (friendship, or otherwise) that he'd ever had before.

Firstly, the Frenchman began to slowly dismantle Tweek's overly dependent nature. He started with small things, like encouraging the blond to stand up for himself, and entertaining his paranoid theories by opening them up for logical discussion. Which, oddly enough, worked better than just shooting down Tweek's fears like everyone else.

When the two began to get closer, Christophe displayed an incredible degree of tough love. Normally, when Tweek got hurt - someone was there to pick him up, brush him off, defend him, or comfort him. But Christophe (even if he WAS present when Tweek was hurt, bullied, or frightened) - would stand back, and force the blond to pick himself up. It was hard at first; there was no denying that. And for a little while, Tweek wondered if Christophe ACTUALLY cared about him, especially if he was willing to let him struggle alone.

But Christophe would approach Tweek after each confrontation, after each hurdle was jumped; the blond would be feeling discouraged and alone. The brunette would always show him gentle affection, and offer him words of encouraging praise: making sure to tell Tweek how proud he was of him, each time he managed to take care of himself.

One step at a time.

As the month progressed, Tweek actually began to feel better about his confidence. Whatever Christophe was doing was working, and the blond found himself more enamored with the mysterious Frenchman. He owed him a lot. And when a 'formal' dance for the senior students of Park County High rolled around - Tweek tried to use that confidence to ask Christophe if he would go with him.

To his delight, the brunette agreed.

On the night of the dance, Christophe showed up at Tweek's house looking incredibly handsome; he dawned a black, crisp button up shirt - paired with black pants and a black jacket. It might seem rather plain, but Tweek thought the look suited the European brunette and his overall, relaxed demeanor. Christophe, on the other hand, thought Tweek looked much better. His small encouragements seemed to do the trick, since the blond had managed to do up ALL his buttons properly on his dark gray button up shirt. He wore a bright green tie, adding a flash of color, and black pants. Granted, his tie was a little crooked, but Christophe had no problem straightening it for him.

"You look 'andsome." He purred, tugging the blond against his side as they walked toward the school. Christophe had driven them both there on his motorcycle. Granted, OLD Tweek would have never gotten on such a 'death trap' mode of transportation. But NEW Tweek only took a bit of coaxing and a few kisses to get on the motorcycle.

Besides, he trusted Christophe now... and despite the brunette's 'tough love' - he knew that the Frenchman wouldn't let any serious harm come to him.

Tweek blushed as they headed toward the large, open gym doors - music already wafting into the night air. "S-So do you..." He stammered in response to Christophe's comment about him looking handsome.

As the pair entered the dark gym - their eyes tried to adjust to the colorful decorations and flashing lights that set the atmosphere for the formal, senior class dance.

"We are nut goeeng to stay long," Christophe mumbled. "I 'ate zhese zhings." He complained.

Tweek slid his hand into Christophe's and smiled bashfully. "W-We don't have to stay long... -nngh- I-I don't like them either, I just... I thought..." He began, trying to figure out how to explain his desire to at least drop in.

But the brunette tugged him into his arms, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

"I underztand... you do nut 'ave to explain." He soothed with a warm smile. Glancing around the room, Christophe spotted Damien and Gregory waving him over. "Ah... I weel be back in a minute," He said with a nod. "Try nut to get eento anyee trouble." He mused, running his hand down Tweek's back and giving his ass a playful squeeze.

The blond squeaked and blushed in the darkness - giving the Frenchman a grateful smile as he watched him walk away. Taking in a nervous breath, Tweek looked around and decided he would just get himself a drink and wait for Christophe to come back to him. Normally, he might have been inclined to hide in a corner - or follow after Christophe like a lost puppy, trembling and twitching all the way. But over the past month, his twitching and trembling remained... but his sense of independence had increased.

Moving over to a large punch bowl, Tweek examined it carefully before pouring himself a cup. He sniffed the drink cautiously, dipping his finger in to taste the fruity beverage, before he finally felt safe enough to drink it.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

The accusatory tone made Tweek tense and flinch, as he turned sheepishly to look at Craig. The two hadn't really been speaking ever since the 'incident' that caused the lapse in their friendship. Tweek had been too humiliated, and he assumed Craig had been too angry. But the noirette HAD been his first love; even tonight, he looked good. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, black jacket and pants - and wasn't wearing his chullo, so his dark hair was strewn attractively across his forehead.

Tweek swallowed, "I-I'm... it's just -nngh- too h-hard..." He admitted. "You were avoiding m-me too!" He countered.

"Yeah, because YOU kissed ME." He growled unhappily.

He furrowed his brow, "A-And you left." Tweek reminded him. "Y-You didn't feel the same... -nngh- I don't b-blame you."

"Yeah?" Craig snarled, looking Tweek up and down. "How long before that Frenchman had you sucking his dick?"

Tweek narrowed his eyes; that feeling of 'confidence' that Christophe had begun to instill in him was fluttering. "Nngh... actually I s-sucked his first." He responded cheekily with a teasing grin.

Craig's face seemed to darken, and before he knew what was happening, the noirette grabbed his arm - and began to drag them away from the bustling, populated gymnasium. Tweek made a small, anxious noise, and initially tried to pull his arm out of Craig's grasp. But his ex-best friend had a tight grip, and didn't intend to let go until they were outside.

Shoving Tweek against the brick wall, Craig stood in front of him with an annoyed scowl. "You can't just KISS someone unexpectedly and assume they'll handle it well." He explained in a hostile tone. "You didn't even give me any warning! What the hell did you expect me to do?"

"Y-You could have been -nngh- nicer about it." Tweek retaliated with a hurt pout. "Y-You could have acted like m-my best friend, and... not -ack- run off!" He trembled; he could feel tears beginning to well in his eyes with the memory replaying in his mind. But Tweek did his best to force them down.

Craig huffed out a breath. "Well you OBVIOUSLY didn't care about me as much as you thought you did." He spat bitterly. "It didn't take you long to crawl into Christophe's lap. And the BEST part is: he doesn't give a shit about you." Craig shook his head. "You're just a cute, vulnerable blond that he can use until he gets bored. Come on, the guy doesn't even DEFEND you when you're being bullied. Does that sound like he CARES about you?" The noirette asked rhetorically.

While Tweek HAD begun to build his confidence... his self-doubt still tended to dominate his mind. He was beginning to feel more comfortable with Christophe, but Craig's comment made him wince. That wasn't true, was it? Sure, sometimes Christophe refused to come over... and they didn't hang out ALL the time... but the brunette had reassured Tweek it was for his OWN good: if he hung out with him all the time, Tweek would never become self assured or independent.

But maybe that was a lie? Maybe Christophe just told him that so he could go spend time with other people... maybe have other flings. As he quickly began to sink back into second-guessing himself - Tweek felt Craig's arms wrap around him: "I miss you." He admitted.

"Nngh! W-What?" Tweek squeaked, shaking as Craig held him close.

The noirette rested his forehead against Tweek's. "I... miss you." He repeated with a heavy sigh. "I know I didn't handle this in the best way. And as hard as this is for me to say, I... I'm... sorry." He grit out uncomfortably.

Tweek shuddered as Craig's lips began to brush against his own. His senses were overloaded; Craig's familiar smell, his eyes, his soft hair brushing against his forehead, the feeling of his arms wrapped around him. It was like curling up in an old, favorite blanket.

"Tweek?"

The blond jerked back as he heard Christophe's voice; Tweek tried to pull himself out of Craig's arms, but the noirette was much stronger and kept a firm grip.

"You're interrupting." Craig said, narrowing his eyes at Christophe. "Why don't you head back inside?"

Christophe glared at Craig. "I weel... az zoon az you let go of 'im." He warned, shifting his dark eyes to the blond. "Tweek... come 'ere." He instructed calmly.

"U-Um..." Tweek began; he tried to move toward Christophe, but Craig held him.

"He doesn't have to listen to you anymore." Craig said, finally letting go of Tweek as he walked toward the brunette. Standing face to face - the blond anxiously looked between the two tall teens - both similar in their build and height, though Christophe looked a bit scruffier and 'harsher' than his best friend.

Christophe tilted his head, "...I nevare made 'im listen to me... unlike you. 'E 'as iz own free will. Why don't you let 'im decide, eenstead of tryeeng to FORCE 'im?" To his surprise, Craig actually caught him off guard by shoving him roughly - causing the Frenchman to stumble backward slightly. The brunette's eyes narrowed toward him as he straightened up. "Zhat was fooleesh."

"Piss. Off." Craig spat. "I don't want to tell you again. I'm not going to let you manipulate Tweek anymore with your warped games. He's not some kind of social experiment." He growled.

No more words were exchanged between the two - because Christophe threw his fist forward, connecting with Craig's jaw. The noirette stumbled back, but the Frenchman didn't let him go too far. Approaching him again, the two began to scuffle; Craig working and punching Christophe's midsection while the brunette roughly struck Craig's head and back.

"S-Stop!" Tweek yelled, tugging on his blond hair as he watched the two fighting.

It didn't take long for the two teens to wind up on the round - rolling, punching and growling at one another as they struggled. Rushing over, Tweek grasped the back of Christophe's formal jacket (as he currently had the upper hand) and pulled him off of Craig as best he could. Placing himself between the two, Tweek put his hands on Christophe's chest and pushed him back as Craig got on his hands and knees, and heaved himself back up to his feet.

"P-Please stop!" Tweek begged, looking up at Christophe with tears in his large eyes.

Christophe was panting heavily from the fight; he didn't look too bad, though his lower lip was bleeding. Craig, however, wasn't bleeding - but a red blotch over his eye gave the impression he'd be graced with a black eye come morning. He looked down to the blond apologetically. "I apologize." He sighed. "But... we need to speak." He said, taking Tweek's hand in his own.

Shooting another glare toward Craig - Christophe tugged Tweek away from the gym and back toward the parking lot; they crossed the large, dark lot in silence, before finally reaching his parked motorcycle.

Once they came to a stop, Christophe leaned against the seat of the motorcycle as Tweek stood in front of him. The blond tentatively lifted his hand to the brunette's face. "A-Are you ok?" He asked worriedly.

"Fine." He answered simply, bringing his eyes up to look at Tweek. He sighed, and shook his head. "Zo... eet would appear zhat I was right. About Craig." He mumbled.

Tweek blushed and looked down. "I-I guess... I -nngh- don't really k-know WHAT to think." He admitted.

The two stood there in silence for a few minutes, before their eyes met again. Tweek couldn't be sure, but he almost caught a hint of 'defeat' in Christophe's eyes.

"Do you steel love 'im?" He asked honestly.

The blond's mouth dropped open a bit as he stared at the Frenchman. His first instinct was to say no... but as his mind jogged back to the moment he and Craig had just shared - he didn't know if that was true. His lower lip began to tremble as his eyes welled up with tears. "I-I... nngh..." He didn't know what to say.

He'd spent years and years pining over Craig; obsessing over him before he finally found the courage to show him how he felt.

Christophe ran his eyes over the blond's pained face sadly, before he stood up and cupped Tweek's face in his hands.

"Shh..." He soothed; his thumbs running over Tweek's pale cheeks, which were becoming streaked with tears. "Zhere eez no need for tears." He reassured him. Trailing his eyes gently over Tweek's face, he nodded. "I underztand eef you want to go back to 'im. You 'ave a long 'istoree." He purred. "I do nut want to stand in ze way of your 'appiness."

Tweek choked out a sob, and threw his arms around Christophe's neck - trembling as the Frenchman embraced him in a strong hug. "I-I... nngh... I still..." He stammered, shutting his eyes tightly as he clutched to the brunette. "B-But... I... you..." He rambled.

"...'ush." Christophe told him supportively. "You cannut 'elp ze way you feel." Pulling back from the tug, he brushed his fingers over Tweek's cheeks again, before he gave him a reassuring smile. Leaning forward - their lips met in a light kiss. "Enjoy ze dance. Per'aps we weel speak later."

Gently removing Tweek's arms from around his shoulders, Christophe backed away and got on his motorcycle. "Y-You're not -nngh- going to stay?" He asked sadly.

"Non." He answered, revving up his motorcycle. "Zhere iz nozhing for me 'ere now." He shrugged, offering Tweek a sad smile. Nodding - he sped off through the parking lot. Tweek watched him go until he was out of sight.

The blond shuddered - and briefly wondered if he made the wrong decision. This was what he wanted, right? He wanted to be with Craig.

"Are you ok?" The familiar voice of his best friend asked.

Turning, Tweek wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "I-I... nngh... y-yes..." He said, though his heart clearly wasn't in the answer. He kept his eyes closed and tugged on his hair, still debating internally about this turn of events. It would have been so much simpler if Craig HADN'T approached him; he could have gone on, stayed with Christophe, and held to the belief that Craig hated him.

He sucked in a few shaky breaths as Craig pulled him into his arms.

"I won't leave you, Tweek." He said calmly. "Not again..." His grip tightened around the blond and he rested his cheek on top of his head. "We won't be apart anymore."

* * *

The next week was difficult for Tweek.

Craig was overly attentive, and got back into his routine for caring for Tweek. The only problem was... Tweek now found his actions a bit over-bearing. He insisted on going with the blond to each class, and glared off any potential threats that came his way; he barely let him out of his sight... and oddly enough... it annoyed him.

Not only that - but Craig reverted back to doing what he always did: treating Tweek like he was his 'property', not his boyfriend. He wouldn't indulge any of Tweek's theories, and instead, just shoot them down like he normally did (or ignore them completely).

He felt low. He felt like he always used to: insignificant, incapable, and weak.

Occasionally, he'd spot Christophe in the hall or in the cafeteria. When their eyes met, he felt that familiar fluttering in his stomach; a longing to feel what he had when he was hanging around the Frenchman.

He missed him.

Christophe had given him something that Craig never had... independence. Instead of taking care of Tweek ALL the time... Christophe had only taken care of Tweek when he really needed it. He treated him like a human being - not like a pet or object; he wasn't something to be pitied, he wanted to be appreciated because of what he was... not looked down upon.

The pain seemed to go both ways. Christophe considered himself an incredibly independent person; he never really needed or wanted anyone. But as crazy as it was, he actually missed the twitching blond. He missed listening to his insane theories (which, to Christophe, really weren't THAT insane... and actually, kind of logical, once they got into discussing them). He missed reassuring him that he could take care of himself... he missed his small noises, and the feeling of Tweek's hands tugging anxiously on his shirt when he wanted something.

It bothered him to see Craig leading the blond around like a puppy - like a piece of property. But there was nothing he could do. He didn't want to stop Tweek from being happy, and the blond had chosen to go back with Craig.

Standing outside by himself, Christophe smoked lazily as he leaned against the wall lost in his thoughts. At least it had been a good run. The month he'd gotten to spend with Tweek was better than nothing; after all, he would have just spent that time alone.

The sound of the door opening made Christophe cringe; he figured it was just some teacher coming to bitch at him for skipping his class. But a small sound caught his attention; it wasn't the lecture he was expecting. "Nngh..."

Turning his head quickly, he saw Tweek.

It took a lot of strength NOT to smile at the sight of the familiar blond. But they were just friends now.

"Tweek." He nodded.

The blond blushed and walked toward him sheepishly. "I-I... was looking for you." He admitted, coming to a stop right in front of where Christophe was leaning against the wall. Lifting his hands, he clutched onto the front of the Frenchman's black, pea coat. Standing up on his tiptoes, the shorter teen pressed his lips against Christophe's in a sweet, short peck. "I... I miss you. I m-made the -nngh- wrong choice." He explained, as his large hazel eyes shining with concern. "I... miss..." He began, but a lump formed in his throat. "I was h-happy."

"Me too." Christophe answered, flicking his cigarette away before wrapping his arms around Tweek's waist. He looked down to the small blond comfortingly - his own heart already increasing with the feeling of holding Tweek in his arms again. "But... what about Craig?" He asked.

Tweek blushed and looked down. "H-He... he wants a pet. N-Not a boyfriend." He muttered sadly. "I just... I don't like the way h-he looks -nngh- down on me..."

"I underztand." Christophe said; lifting a hand and brushing the back of his fingers against Tweek's flushed cheek. "Deed you tell Craig zhis?"

The blond nodded. "H-He wasn't that happy about it..." He said sadly. "He said... I-I'll crawl b-back -nngh- to him."

"No you won't." Christophe told him firmly.

Tweek gave him a small smile, "N-No... I won't..." He muttered, nestling his nose against Christophe's.


	14. Nevermind :: Style, Bunny

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD... like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings:** Stan/Kyle, Butters/Kenny

**Summary:** Based on "Random Screenshot" by SouthParkFantasy; it features Butters and Stan, and doesn't have a 'set' scenario to it - so I decided I'd write a quick one shot about it since I love it so much haha

s o u t h p a r k f a n t a s y . d e v i a n t a r t . c o m / g a l l e r y / # / d 2 1 m j 5 o

* * *

**Notes I:** Story is while the boys are young - i.e. the way they appear in SPF's picture, so any relationships are more or less implied/budding.

**Notes II:** Song for fic would be 'Orange Sky' by Alexi Murdoch, because of SPF's wonderful coloring of the sky xD

**Notes III:** This is just for fun lol - The boys are about 11-12 years old (again, going by a rough 'possible' age portrayed in SPF's picture. At least, in my view haha

* * *

"H-Hey Stan?" Butters asked meekly.

Turning, the raven-haired boy saw little Butters Stotch standing awkwardly behind him and his friends. He, Kyle and Kenny were heading to Stark's Pond to enjoy this unseasonably warm November day (though still a bit cool out, it was warmer than it should have been for South Park's standards) - when the small blond had approached him unexpectedly.

Stan quirked a brow, "What?" He asked impatiently.

"Aw, um... c-can I ask you something?" He continued; a small blush painting his pale cheeks. "Alone?"

Stan sighed, and seriously contemplated just telling Butters to piss off so he could continue enjoying his Saturday. But the pathetic look in the blond boy's eyes tugged at his heartstrings more than they should of. All in all, Stan Marsh liked to think he was a good guy - and sometimes that meant taking the time to listen when someone asked.

Even if that 'someone' was Butters Stotch.

"Fine." He sighed, rolling his eyes slightly. Looking back toward Kyle and Kenny - he shrugged. "I'll catch up with you guys at the Pond." He mumbled.

His friends shrugged and continued on without him. As Stan turned back to look at Butters, he noticed the small blond boy watching Kenny and Kyle walk away - with a somewhat 'longing' look on his features. Stan furrowed his brow. "What the hell do you want, Butters?" Stan asked again, rather curtly. "I'd like to spend the day having FUN."

"O-Oh, gee... I'm awful sorry Stan," Butters stammered, stubbing the toe of his shoe against the cement sidewalk. "I just... didn't know who else to talk to about this." He admitted sheepishly. "I t-think you and I kind of have the same problem."

This comment intrigued Stan. Frankly, he didn't think he HAD any problems; his life was pretty satisfactory, at least, as much as it could be at the age of eleven. So the fact that Butters was claiming they BOTH had the same problem was a bit hard to grasp. After all, they were NOTHING alike. Butters was the type of kid who was still apprehensive about the dark; a kid who still got grounded more than anyone else, who was incredibly polite, innocent, good and na ve. While Stan, who might be a good kid, could have a pretty foul mouth sometimes, and partake in some mischief with his friends.

"W-Well," Butters continued when Stan didn't say anything, "What do YOU do when... ah... oh jeeze... what do YOU do when you start to think of someone?" He asked quickly.

Stan quirked another brow, repeating the question in his mind, "...What?" He asked, giving Butters an odd look.

"W-What do you do when you start to think of someone, um... t-that you like?" The blond clarified, bumping his fists together anxiously. "You know? Someone that... that you SHOULDN'T like... o-or be thinkin' about?" He coaxed.

The raven-haired boy stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at Butters blankly. "Honestly? ... I have no fuckin' clue what you're talking about Butters." He sighed, shaking his head. "Are you talking about a girl? Is it that Alexis chick from Raisins? I thought you were over her."

"N-No, it's not Alexis... I-I mean, we're friends and all, and she's REAL pretty, but-but she's not really my type... anymore." He blushed, shaking his head and looking down at his shoes as he fiddled with his hands. "I was talkin' about, uh... oh hamburgers..." He sighed, biting his lower lip. "I was talkin' about a boy."

Stan stared blankly at the small blond.

"A boy?" He repeated dully.

Butters brought his bright eyes back up to Stan again. "Yes." He admitted bashfully. "And I thought m-maybe that YOU knew of... um... some way to... hide these feelings? O-Or maybe push 'em down? You seem pretty good at it." He asked hopefully.

"Butters, JUST because I broke up with Wendy again - doesn't mean I'm suddenly GAY." He huffed. "Why the fuck would you think that I have the same problem as you?" He asked with a small scoff.

The blond tilted his head, looking at Stan with a hint of confusion. "Well, gee... don't you like Kyle?" He asked.

Stan's ocean blue eyes widened as he stared at Butters in absolute shock. Was he serious? Kyle was his best friend! He had no romantic interest in him. How could he? Yeah, he'd been on and off with Wendy... and true, Kyle had always been there for him - and YES, technically, he enjoyed spending time with his best friend more than anyone else in the world... but that wasn't the same. Right?

"Butters, that's fucked up." He grumbled uncomfortably.

The blond shifted his eyes to the side briefly, before he looked back to Stan with a quirked brow; a slight look of disbelief on his face. "W-Why?" He asked. "I thought... you would have r-realized it by now."

"Realized WHAT?" Stan snapped.

Butters narrowed his eyes, "W-Well, realized how you felt about him." He shrugged. "G-Gee, there ain't nuthin' wrong with it. I'm sure as heck not gonna tell anyone..." He swore, lifting his eyes with a reassuring smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think anyone else h-has noticed." He said, glancing around nervously, before he gave Stan another grin.

"Butters, I have NO idea what you're talking about." Stan pouted in denial; a confused (but serious) look plastered on his face.

The blond's character suddenly changed to one that Stan had never seen before: annoyed disappointment.

"Nevermind." Butters sighed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sea-foam green hoodie as he began to walk away from the other boy.

Stan watched Butters with a perplexed expression. What the hell was that? Why was he acting like he was so disappointed with him? "Well... hey..." Stan called awkwardly. "You wanna come hang out at Stark's Pond?" He offered.

Butters stopped in his tracks and turned to look back at Stan. He shifted his gaze up and down the street - as if internally debating the pros and cons of going along with Stan and his friends. "Sure." He agreed finally, walking back toward Stan with a reluctant shuffle.

The two boys began to walk quietly down the street - heading toward Stark's Pond, where Kenny and Kyle were undoubtedly waiting. As they traveled in silence, Stan stole uneasy glances at Butters. He seemed eerily calm... and still... a bit disappointed with Stan's answers to his questions. What the hell?

"I don't like Kyle like that, Butters." Stan began quietly - still not feeling entirely comfortable with how they'd left the conversation.

Butters didn't look at him; he just kept his eyes ahead. "Uh huh." He answered, clearly unconvinced.

Stan narrowed his eyes at the blond again, but didn't say anything. How the hell could this kid be so sure about how HE felt? Butters didn't know what he thought about - or his impression of Kyle. Just because they were CLOSE didn't mean it was anything other than friendship. They were just comfortable with each other. They could hug, or cuddle, and protect one another... but on the flip side, they also fought, argued and swore. All friendships were like that.

'It doesn't MEAN anything' - Stan mentally convinced himself.

When they reached Stark's Pond, Kyle and Kenny were standing near one of the large trees chatting between one another. It seemed to be a rather intense conversation; Stan could always tell when Kyle was upset about something - because his cheeks flushed; often matching the color of his hair. But when Butters and Stan began to approach, Kenny alerted Kyle to their presence with a cheeky grin, and they stopped talking.

"You brought Butters." Kenny smiled.

Stan rolled his eyes, "And Captain Obvious saves the day again."

"Fuck you, you little shit bag." Kenny laughed, before turning his attention to Butters. "I hope Sullen-Stanley didn't ruin your day with his mood swings."

The raven-haired boy glared at Kenny, while Butters smiled. "N-No..." He muttered. Stan couldn't help but notice a familiar blush cross the blond's cheeks. He flickered his eyes between Kenny and Butters, and wondered if KENNY was the boy Butters had been referring to earlier. Out of everyone in the group - Kenny seemed to be the one that Butters naturally gravitated toward. Stan initially thought it was because he didn't say much, and had never REALLY teased Butters like the rest of them.

But now, Stan questioned whether or not it was because he LIKED the other boy.

"Wanna climb the tree with me?" Kenny continued, motioning to the one standing growing behind them. "Kyle's being a pussy and can't do it."

Kyle crossed his arms, pouting a bit, "I didn't say I CAN'T do it, I just don't WANT to." He responded.

"W-Well gee, I'll climb it with you Kenny." Butters agreed, flashing a sweet smile as he gazed up at the slightly taller eleven year old.

Kenny grinned and headed over toward the tree with Butters in tow. Stan looked back and forth between the retreating forms of Kenny and Butters - and his best friend, who still seemed a bit uncomfortable.

"Uh," Stan cleared his throat - keeping his eyes down. "So, you wanna skip rocks?" He asked with a shrug.

Kyle nodded, "Sure dude." He answered. The two boys headed over toward the edge of the pond, and began to gather what small, flat rocks they could find. When they'd gotten enough, they sat down next to one another, cross-legged, and began to skip their rocks across the water.

"So... what were you and Kenny talking about?" Stan asked curiously, flicking his eyes over Kyle's face.

The redhead seemed to blush a bit, "Nothing." He scoffed. "Kenny was just being perverted and stupid." He grumbled.

Stan nodded, but wasn't nearly as satisfied with that answer as he was pretending to be. After all these years, he could tell when Kyle was lying to him, and THIS was no exception. But before he could push the matter, his friend spoke first:

"What did Butters want?" Kyle asked lightly - turning his bright, large green eyes over to his best friend.

Stan felt a small amount of heat rising in his cheeks. "U-Uh..." He stammered, skipping a rock across the pond to buy himself some more time before answering. "Butters just... seems to have this crazy problem..." He shrugged. "It's not a big deal. I couldn't help him, so, it was kind of a waste."

"Oh." Kyle answered, raising an interested brow. "Well, what was the problem?"

The raven-haired boy winced; he'd really hoped Kyle wouldn't ask. "Um..." He began, looking back to check that Butters and Kenny were still up in the tree, and far enough away. "He likes someone." Stan said, looking back to Kyle. "A boy."

"Seriously?" Kyle asked; despite the 'shock' heard in his voice, Stan couldn't help but notice that the redhead's expression seemed rather relaxed... almost tense, like he was afraid to emote too much.

Stan nodded, "Yeah. I guess he told me because he thought we had the same problem." He scoffed, tossing another rock in.

"Huh?" His best friend asked, tilting his head as he looked at him. "The same problem?" He repeated, furrowing his brow as his intelligent mind tried to figure out what Stan was referring to.

Stan couldn't help but tense a bit.

'Shit' He thought to himself - immediately regretting blurting out that last part. But he was so used to telling Kyle everything without thinking too much about it, he didn't think he'd have to explain the 'problem' in question.

"Wait, so..." Kyle continued, breaking through Stan's internal panic attack. "Butters thought you had the same problem? He thought YOU liked a guy too?" He asked. "Who?"

The raven-haired boy swallowed and kept his eyes down. "Uh... you, actually." He mumbled, skipping another rock like the conversation wasn't incredibly awkward.

"Oh..." Kyle muttered, his voice inching down a tone; nowhere near as loud as it had been at the start of the conversation. There was a brief, uncomfortable silence that fell between the two for a couple of minutes, before Kyle spoke again, "So... what did you tell him?" He asked tentatively.

Stan kept his eyes forward, unable to look at his best friend - for fear that he'd see a look of disgust on his face; this whole thing no doubt grossed Kyle out. "I-I told him it wasn't true, dude." Stan answered quickly, his voice cracking a bit. "We've never done anything like that - we're just friends. Best friends. Super best friends." He rambled a bit as he tried to skip another rock, but failed miserably.

Another silence fell between them, and Stan couldn't help but feel bad about his answer. "I-I mean... it's not like, it's a BAD thing." He clarified slowly. "If I WAS gay, then... I... I dunno, I'd probably TRY and... you know..." He stammered. "You ARE my best friend, so..."

His breath caught in his throat as he suddenly felt a mitten-clad, warm hand rest over his. For the first time since they'd sat down at the pond, Stan looked over toward Kyle - who surprisingly, was looking right at him with a bashful smile.

"Me too, Stan." He admitted quietly.

The raven-haired boy found a small smile growing on his lips. "Really?" He asked. "It's not... weird?"

"Well, it's not something I think about ALL the time," Kyle shrugged, rolling his eyes. You're kind of a stupid emo sometimes, and you have this weird thing about saving animals." He listed with a grin.

Stan glared at him, "Thanks, dickhole." He grumbled.

Kyle's face softened as he continued, "But... aren't you kind of... curious?" He asked, turning his eyes back up to Stan's.

Stan swallowed - and as nervous as he felt - couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away from his best friend's bright, familiar, comforting green ones. Letting out a quick breath, Stan leaned forward and quickly pressed his lips to Kyle's; squeezing his eyes shut as he did it.

Both boys stayed perfectly still for a few moments, before slowly, they tried to move their lips. It was awkward at first - and as much as Stan wanted to pull away... he made himself continue. He didn't want to be seen as some kind of pussy. Granted, some people like Cartman might tell him that kissing ANOTHER guy MAKES him a pussy... but Stan thought he might be more of a pussy if he didn't follow through. Kyle had admitted he was curious - and Stan figured now was as good a time as any to satisfy both of them.

Gradually, the kiss relaxed and became sweeter - before finally they pulled apart. Stan opened his bright blue eyes to see Kyle doing the same. He was still leaning forward toward Kyle on his hands and knees, while Kyle remained sitting.

"Dude." The redhead blushed. "I didn't think you'd actually do it." He smiled.

Stan blushed again, "I knew you'd be too much of a Jew pussy to make the first move."

"Fuck you." Kyle scoffed, giving Stan a small shove.

Both boys sat there peacefully; each reflecting on their first kiss with one another. "How do you feel?" Stan asked cautiously.

"I dunno." The redhead shrugged, beginning to pick at the dying grass beside him. "It was kind of... normal?"

Stan nodded. "Yeah."

Another pause.

"But kind of nice." Kyle continued.

Stan nodded again; the corner of his mouth turning up a bit. "Yeah." He agreed.

"We're not telling anyone about this." Kyle warned.

"Agreed." Stan said quickly.

His best friend bit his lower lip, "But... we might have to bribe Kenny and Butters." He mumbled, glancing back toward the tree; he could see two pairs of legs dangling down from a high branch. Their upper bodies weren't visible to him, just their legs; Kyle could tell the two were sitting next to one another on the branch. "I bet they saw everything from up there."

But Stan just smiled, skipping another rock across the pond. "I wouldn't worry about them." He said, feeling rather good about himself.

* * *

"W-Well, gee Kenny... are you sure?" Butters asked hopefully. "You don't HAVETA if you don't wanna. I-I mean, it's an awkward situation, and I feel awful guilty about askin' now..." He admitted.

Kenny kept his mischievous blue eyes on the small blond that sat beside him in the tree. "I said it's fine Butters." Kenny grinned. "Maybe I'm kind of curious too." He shrugged.

Butters looked up to him bashfully, and opened his mouth to respond - but Kenny's lips covered his own before any words could escape. Butters made a small, surprised sound - and quickly closed his eyes. While he'd never really kissed anyone (except for that one girl, Sally, behind the portables when he was in the fourth grade) - Butters could tell that Kenny had quite a BIT of experience kissing.

It made his heart flutter faster.

When Kenny finally pulled back from the kiss, he looked over Butters with a genuine smile. "How was I?" He asked cockily.

"A-Aw gee, Kenny... y-you were wonderful..." He gushed, adoringly looking at the confident blond at his side.

Kenny scooted closer to Butters. "You were pretty wonderful too." He whispered into his ear. The small blond giggled and blushed as Kenny rested his hand over Butters'.

"Butters and Kenny sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G..." Kenny sang, kicking his legs.

Butters laughed and shrunk down a bit. "A-Aw Kenny," He groaned, rolling his eyes playfully.

"Too soon?" He smirked. "Ok, how about this," He sat up straighter - and projected his voice much louder. "Stan and Kyle sittin' by the pond, F-U-C-K-I-N-G..." He sang again childishly.

From a few feet away, further below, they heard a shouted response. "Shut up you doucher!" Stan yelled.


	15. Whatever I say, Goes :: Candy

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD... like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings:** Cartman/Wendy

**Summary:** This is just a series of one-shots... I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, Non-Refundable, etc).

**Notes I:** There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II:** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics... I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE - I'd like your opinions as well... so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know

**Notes III:** Dedicated and inspired by the AWESOME work of duofan ^^ Her 'Candy' stuff is pretty much what converted me/turned me onto the idea of Cartman and Wendy being incredibly perfect for one another haha

This particular fic is dedicated to her picture: Behave, Cartman (look it up, it's great haha).

_Song:_ Why Does It Always Rain On Me – by - Travis

* * *

"This was stupid, Cartman." Wendy huffed out an annoyed breath. "Besides, I'm not entirely convinced you didn't CHEAT."

They were standing outside their first period homeroom, where they'd gotten the results back from a history test last week. Wendy had foolishly made a bet with Cartman that she'd get a higher mark than him. If she did, he wasn't allowed to make fun of her (or anyone else) for a whole week. If he DID, she, Bebe, and Kyle were allowed to kick him in the balls.

If CARTMAN won, however, his conditions were simple: Wendy had to pretend to be his girlfriend for a week… and technically… do almost everything he said. ALMOST was the stressed word, on her part, since they agreed that doing 'what he said' did not include anything sexual. At least, nothing that involved actual sex; if she was unwilling, it could be classified as rape.

Unfortunately, making a bet with someone like Eric Cartman was NOT wise. Wendy was now finding that out the hard way – since she'd scored a 97%, and HE had somehow scored a 98%.

Cartman scoffed, leaning against the wall beside her as she looked over their papers. "Look all you want, bitch." He grinned. "It's a solid grade." Shrugging calmly, Eric moved his eyes down the hall. "What can I say? German history is my forte."

Wendy shoved his test back against his chest, before she began to storm off down the hall, heading toward her next class. Much to her distress, he was already following her. "Don't be mad, babe." He purred. Reaching up, he adjusted his uniform tie. "You'll be on the arm of Park County High's most eligible bachelor for the next week."

"Gag." She answered sarcastically.

While Wendy would never admit it, Cartman WASN'T as bad looking as he'd once been. Since they'd gotten to high school, the trouble-making boy had grown taller; most of his childhood fat had disappeared. Sure, he was still 'big boned' compared to his other friends, but calling him 'fat' was a stretch. He was even on the football team AND the debate team… and apparently, he was doing well on both. Loosely, Eric Cartman was charmingly attractive in an 'smug asshole' kind of way. He was one of those teens who knew as soon as he was out of high school and unleashed into University, he'd go on to do whatever he wanted. He was arrogant, intelligent, ruthless, and cunning - which was more than could be said for MOST Park County High students at the age of 18.

"We often refuse to accept an idea merely because the tone of voice in which it has been expressed is unsympathetic to us." Cartman recited.

Wendy rolled her eyes as they reached her class. "Quoting Friedrich Nietzsche isn't going to win you points, Eric." She said bitterly. "Just email me later with… whatever details you have in mind…" She sighed. "But the bet doesn't start until tomorrow – so for now, fuck off."

"You're cute when you're trying to be defiant." He mused smugly. "I like it."

There was an odd feeling fluttering around in her stomach – but the brunette ignored it, and instead, stormed into her class, successfully leaving him out in the hall. Slumping into her seat beside her best friend, the bubbly blond giggled.

"I take it you lost the bet?" Bebe asked sweetly.

Wendy sighed. "That's not all I'll loose." She said. "That asshole is going to rob me of my dignity, I just know it."

"I dunno, Wendy, it might not be so bad." Bebe shrugged, examining her nails as she spoke. "At least you're stuck pretending to be 18-year-old-Cartman's girlfriend, rather than 8-year-old-Cartman's girlfriend. He's not all that bad looking now tha—"

But Wendy interrupted her, "Enough, Bebe. Stop trying to make me feel better about this whole fucked up situation." She grumbled, resting her head on her desk. "I just want to get it over with."

* * *

She'd managed to successfully avoid Cartman for the rest of the day. Occasionally, she'd spot him in the hall or in one of her classes, but Wendy was smart enough to keep her distance. That didn't help the fact that each time she HAPPENED to glance in his direction… the light-haired brunette was staring back at her with a cocky smirk.

It just made her heart sink. What the hell had she gotten herself into? She could only imagine what he had planned. Maybe he'd make her wear some kind of altered school-uniform… or slap on makeup like some kind of whore… or feed him grapes in the cafeteria, or something. Her pulse raced in anger just thinking about it; a feminist was certainly going to have trouble adapting to the 'orders' that a chauvinistic asshole like Eric Cartman was sure to give her.

She felt relieved to finally return home. Wendy spoke to her parents like she always did – making sure to mention the good grade on her test (though failing to mention the foolish bet she'd placed along with it), before eating dinner, and heading up to her room to work on some homework. After all, she wasn't an honor student for nothing; Wendy worked hard on her grades, and while other girls like Bebe slacked off for late trips to dance clubs or parties… Wendy was hitting the books.

Changing out of her school uniform, Wendy slipped into her pajama pants and a simple black tank top, before she tossed her hair into a messy bun and sat down at her desk with her laptop.

The brunette was there for a few hours, before her cell phone began to vibrate. Squinting as she read over a paper she'd been working on, Wendy picked it up – figuring it was Bebe or Red calling to ask her for help with something.

"Hello?" She answered pleasantly, tilting her head in thought as she read over what she'd just typed on her laptop.

But the voice on the other end wasn't a female; it was a male. "You sound sexy when you answer the phone." The familiar chuckle of Eric Cartman filled her ear.

Wendy froze, a light blush touching her cheeks.

"…Why are you calling me?" She asked bluntly, no longer distracted by her paper, but suspiciously on alert. "I told you to email me."

Cartman answered smoothly, "Well, email is so formal, don't you think? Now that we're dating for the next week, I figured my terms would be more easily conveyed over the phone." He said smugly.

Wendy closed her eyes and grit her teeth together, hoping to push back any inclination she had to bitch him out.

"Do you have a pen and paper?" Cartman continued. "You might want to write this down."

The female scoffed, "Just hurry the fuck up already. I have a lot of work to do." She growled, sitting back in her desk chair as she nervously waited for him to continue.

"First: your uniform." He began.

Wendy's eyes hardened, "I'm NOT changing it, or making it shorter." She answered quickly.

"Perhaps for the remainder of the conversation, you can keep that beautiful mouth shut and allow me to finish, hm?" He responded snidely. Wendy pursed her lips together, and remained silent. "I never said you had to change it. BUT for the duration of this bet – that is, the next week – you are only allowed to wear the school skirt. No pants." He said, listing that demand first. Wendy cringed; she only wore the school skirt two days a week, while the other three she wore the female pants, since girls were permitted to wear either. Girls like BEBE wore the skirt every day, and Wendy didn't resemble her best friend in the slightest. "Also… you have to wear heels."

Her mouth dropped open a bit. "Are you kidding?"

"Uniform skirt and heels. That's condition one." He repeated smoothly. "Just because you're a raging feminist doesn't mean you can't flaunt those hot legs of yours."

Wendy felt her cheeks heat up again, though she tried to act repulsed by the comment. "Keep going. I told you to make this quick."

"See, some guys might be ANNOYED by your hostile attitude and your no-bullshit bitchiness… but it's not going to work on me." She could almost hear the smile on his face through the tone of his voice. "Second condition, I'm picking you up for school in the morning AND dropping you off at home afterward. My girlfriend isn't going to take the bus like some commoner."

Again, there was an angry flutter in her stomach, "I'm not your girlfriend. This is just a stupid bet." She retorted.

"Condition three," Cartman continued, "From now on, you're going to refer to yourself as my girlfriend." He said. Before Wendy could protest, he kept speaking, "And I know that makes you pissy, but the condition of the bet was that YOU were to parade around as my girlfriend for the whole week. Why not embrace that title, hm?"

She couldn't argue with him on that, since that WAS the arrangement. But still – Wendy only agreed because she didn't think she'd LOSE. Pursing her lips again, and shoving her anger down, she sighed. "Anything else?" She asked tightly.

"Black panties." He stated simply.

Wendy's heart sunk. "…What?" She asked tentatively.

"I'm going to tell you what kind of panties to wear for the next week. Tomorrow, you'll wear black, because I said so."

The raven-haired female scowled. "This deal doesn't involve anything sexual, you dickhead."

"Who is talking about sex?" Cartman debated smoothly. "It's just like the skirt for our uniform… it's a clothing request. And that IS part of the deal, so you don't have a choice."

Wendy let out an exasperated breath; she was having a difficult time controlling her anger now. "What else?" She asked through clenched teeth.

"Well," He began, clearing his throat in a pretentious way. "Since tomorrow is Tuesday – and the bet is arranged for the course of a WEEK,"

She interrupted quickly, "A BUSINESS week. Five days." She clarified.

"Right. Five days." He repeated. "That means, SATURDAY is included in this bet, and THAT will be the last day… which, just so happens to be the Senior Spring Dance. And we're going." He said confidently. "It's a perfect way to 'bookend' this little arrangement, don't you think?"

The female rolled her eyes. "Is that all?" She asked impatiently.

"That's all… for now, anyway." He said confidently. "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning."

Wendy opened her mouth to respond, but a 'click' followed by a dial tone confirmed that Cartman had already hung up. Growling to herself, she closed her cell phone and tossed it back onto her bed. God, he really knew how to push her buttons. The uneasy, uncertainty of what Eric MIGHT make her do was becoming a very real concern for Wendy.

Then again, he seemed rather eager to follow through with the bet. And some of his comments, while egotistical and sexist… DID sent a bit of heat to her cheeks. Of course, the female just convinced herself that 'heat' was the result of pent up anger toward him.

He was unlikable… simple as that.

* * *

When she got up the next morning, Wendy had breakfast and showered – and went back to her room to finish getting ready. The skirt of her uniform seemed to be staring her in the face - as did a pair of simple dark gray heels. She didn't have a LOT of high-heeled shoes, at least, nothing compared to what Bebe raked in (which was somewhere around the hundreds). She only wore them when she dressed up, or on special occasions.

Sighing begrudgingly, Wendy got dressed into her school uniform, which consisted of: a crisp, small white button up shirt, an overlay sleeveless vest, a tie, and finally, the gray skirt, which fell below her thighs, though a bit higher than her knees.

Stepping into the heels, Wendy adjusted herself awkwardly, and walked around her room a few times to get into the familiar rhythm and balanced NEEDED when wearing heels. Looking herself over in the mirror, the raven-haired female couldn't help but tilt her head. She didn't look half bad.

Leaving her room with her knapsack slung over her shoulder, Wendy made her way downstairs and out the door… but she was startled at the sight of Cartman already waiting by his car, near the curb of her house. She'd almost forgotten that he was picking her up today. He stood there lazily, leaning against his black car while she reluctantly walked down the pathway and over to the sidewalk.

"Lookin' good, ho." He purred with a grin.

Wendy shifted her stance awkwardly, but still had a great deal of confidence and poise. Cartman admired that about her; even when pushed into a humiliating situation, Wendy kept her pride. "Let's just go." She mumbled.

Chuckling, Cartman opened her door for her and watched Wendy as she carefully slid into the passenger side. Shutting her door, he walked around to the other side of the car and got into the driver's seat. Revving up the smooth, rumbling engine, he pulled away from the curb and started to drive…

* * *

Wendy shut the door of his car forcefully after they'd parked in the school parking lot. For some reason, Cartman parked at the very FAR corner of the student lot. WHY, she didn't know, and she could only imagine that he was hiding something.

Just as she was about to start walking, his sharp voice addressed her. "Hold it." He said.

Stopping, Wendy watched as he rounded to her side of the car and stood in front of her with a small smile. "Are you wearing black panties?" He asked.

"Yes." She answered quickly and quietly – trying to refrain from chewing him out about THAT particular demand.

Cartman nodded. "Show me."

"I'm not going to flash you in the parking lot, you asshole." Wendy snapped defiantly.

The taller brunette boy rolled his eyes. "I'm not asking you to flash me, you stupid bitch." He grumbled. Grabbing her knapsack, he yanked it from her grip. Wendy stared at him; confusion written across her face as he lightly tossed it onto the pavement.

"Bend over, and pick it up." He ordered, gesturing toward the bag with a slight incline of his head.

Wendy felt that angry, embarrassed blush flood her cheeks again at the request. This was so humiliating. The teen had already made a silent promise to herself NEVER to make another bet with Eric Cartman as long as she lived. And this was only DAY ONE of what would surely be a horrible week.

Moving past him, Wendy took a deep breath and slowly bent over toward her bag; her uniform skirt riding up on her slender thighs, successfully giving Cartman a peek at the black panties that she was, indeed, wearing.

"There." He mumbled in a husky voice. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Wendy stood up straight, and shrugged on her knapsack – all the while giving him the deadliest glare she could muster. But Cartman just chuckled, and took her hand – tugging her along with him as they began to walk across the parking lot.

"Why the fuck did you park all the way back there?" She asked unhappily as they walked.

Cartman kept his confident eyes ahead; his chin lifting in a prideful way as he spoke. "I like people to see me arrive. I want them to take notice of me; it commands a certain level of respect." He explained arrogantly.

While it might sound ridiculous – and her mind immediately jumped to an insulting fat-joke about how it was hard to 'miss' Eric Cartman – she had to admit that he was right. As they got closer to the school, Wendy saw a lot of people sparing them a glance… if not outwardly staring right at them. But it really started to sink in then, that THIS was happening. She was holding Eric's hand, and they were walking together. For the next week, she was his, and she wouldn't really be able to EXPLAIN to anyone why.

As they headed toward the high school doors, Wendy took a few deep, hyperventilating breaths in the hopes of calming her nerves.

"Don't be so nervous, ho." Cartman commented slyly, easily spotting how uncomfortable she was. "You're honestly going to let me strip away your dignity on the first day? … This will be easier than I thought." He mused.

The comment DID spark Wendy's normal defiance back through her blood. "You're not going to strip me of anything, asshole." She snarled. Straightening up, Wendy tried to walk with her familiar confidence. "This is just business."

"Business, indeed." He purred, smirking as they entered the school and began to walk down the halls. "And it's a pleasure to be DOING this business… you look better than any other chick in here."

Wendy's eyes flickered down and she tried to ignore the comment; but how could she ignore it? He kept throwing in these random compliments that seemed both sleazy and genuine at the same time. It was throwing her over-analytical mind for a loop.

Since they both had the same class together, Wendy wasn't able to escape Cartman in first period. He didn't let go of her hand until they were seated; he made a point to take Bebe's usual spot beside her.

When her blond best friend came in, she gave Wendy a teasing giggle, before she went to go sit down next to Kyle. The redhead didn't seem at ALL interested, and Wendy knew it was because HE was currently seeing HER ex-boyfriend, Stan Marsh.

"Were Bebe's parents first-cousins who were ALSO oblivious to the world?" Cartman asked with a sarcastic scoff when he noticed her trying to chat up Kyle.

For some reason, the comment (while aimed at her best friend) made Wendy's lips turn up into a small smile. While she loved Bebe, she had to admit the blond wasn't the brightest bulb in the box. But catching the smile, Wendy adjusted in her seat and frowned. "That's not funny."

"Yes it is." Cartman smirked. "You CAN laugh at the expense of your friends, you know. It's called teasing, Wendy, and everyone does it."

Wendy straightened in her seat. "Not me. Friendship is valuable… it's not a 'means' to an end."

"Oh I beg to differ." The brown-haired teen purred. "I could go into details, but… let's save that fascinating debate for another time, hm? I have a lot to teach you over the next week." He mused cockily. "I happen to LIKE arguing with people. Especially uptight feminists."

The female crossed her arms and pursed her lips, before she took a deep breath. She wasn't going to say anything; she WASN'T going to let him suck her into his malicious mind games.

* * *

Thankfully, she did not have any more classes with Eric after their first period. Of course she DID have two with Bebe, who immediately started to bombard her with questions about her day so far.

"So like… what is he gonna make you do?" The blond asked with peaked interest and a playful smile.

Wendy sighed, "He called me last night and told me that I have to: wear a skirt for the rest of the week, wear HEELS for the rest of the week… and… he made me wear black panties today." She grumbled embarrassingly as her cheeks flushed again.

"Are you serious?" She squealed. "That's… kind of hot, Wends."

The raven-haired girl shot her best friend a look. "Hot? Are you kidding? It's degrading, Bebe. I have to pretend like I'm dating that asshole for the next week. It's only TUESDAY, and I'm regretting ever following through on it."

"Look, it's not THAT bad." Bebe shrugged. "Come on, you haven't dated anyone since you and Stan broke up when you were sixteen. That's two years ago." She stressed. "And yeah, Eric's a complete asshole and pretentious as fuck, but… you could do WORSE, right?"

Wendy sighed. "I might have to do what he says, but that doesn't mean I need to enjoy it. Or even PRETEND to enjoy it." She said, flipping open her notebook. "I'll just be happy when the week is over."

As their class began, Wendy had a hard time focusing on the lecture… and instead, resorted back to thinking about how much she resented Eric Cartman. She could only imagine what he'd make her wear to the Senior Spring Dance on Saturday. Her stomach turned into nervous knots at the thought of it…

* * *

Her classes flew by relatively quickly (since she hadn't managed to pay attention in any of them) – and each time she left, Eric was already outside her classroom waiting for her. She felt that familiar, embarrassed anger each time she saw him, and felt that uncomfortable flutter in the pit of her stomach each time he held her hand.

When lunch rolled around, he didn't take them to the cafeteria. Instead, he brought Wendy to his locker, and tossed her a lunch bag. "What's this?" She asked tentatively.

"Lunch, you dumb ho." He scoffed. "I didn't really want to be 'disturbed' on our first lunch as a couple." He smirked. "So we're eating right here. We're going to get to know each other a little better." Cartman purred, sitting down on the floor crossed-legged as his back rested against his locker.

Looking up to her, he gestured with a flick of his head for her to sit in his lap. Wendy blushed and tensed up – glaring at him sternly. "You've got to be kidding." She muttered.

"Sit." He repeated.

Anxiously, the raven-haired female looked up and down the hallway. They were virtually alone, since everyone else had gone to the cafeteria. Sighing, she awkwardly sat down in his lap. Cartman wrapped his arms around her smaller frame, and positioned her so it was comfortable for the both of them. As much as she hated to admit how awkward this was… it was also kind of… nice? She hadn't been so close to a guy since Stan – and even then, during the last year of their relationship, he'd begun to pull away from her.

The damned blush on her cheeks refused to go down as he opened the bag and handed her a neatly wrapped sandwich.

"You made me lunch?" She asked, almost shocked at the idea.

Cartman chuckled, "You're cute when you say something naïve and stupid." He mused. Wendy glared at him as he continued. "My mom made it for me. I told her to make two."

"Your poor mother still makes your lunches? That's pathetic." She grumbled, opening the cingwrap around the sandwich.

The brunette boy shot her a quick look; "You'll be singing a different tune when you taste her sandwich." He predicted, unwrapping his own. "Besides, you don't need the calories of the cafeteria food. I'll be watching your figure over the next week. Very closely." He smirked.

"You're one to talk about watching their figure, Eric." She responded bitterly.

Cartman chuckled, "Petty excuses, Wendy. You, nor anyone else, can rip on me for being fat anymore. Because I'm not." He shrugged. "I've got brawn to accompany my brains now… and a pretty girl on my arm." He purred, resting his chin on her smaller shoulder. "As far as I'm concerned, there isn't anything that can stop me now."

Wendy had to suppress a shiver as he said that last sentence into her ear. There was something oddly arousing about Cartman's behavior. Yes, he was an asshole… yes, he was sexist, and yes he was selfish. But still, she found herself subconsciously drawn to him. And it scared her.

As soon as they'd finished eating, Wendy was becoming more and more anxious to leave. "Are we done?" She asked.

"We're done when I say we're done." Cartman responded calmly. He shifted her in his lap slightly, so she was sitting sideways. Wendy could feel his chocolate-colored brown eyes trailing over her face and features quietly.

The color, once more, returned to her cheeks. "What?" She asked impatiently, turning to glare at him as best she could.

"Just looking at my girlfriend." He responded with a shrug. Raising two fingers, he grasped a piece of her dark hair between them, and gently began to rub it. "What color of panties do you want to wear tomorrow?" He purred, tilting his head a bit as he looked to her with a calculating, and almost playful glint in his eyes.

Wendy blushed. "Behave yourself, Cartman." She warned.

"I am." He said calmly; that grin still on his face. "But it's not my fault you look sexy when you're unhappy… and pouting…"

Feeling her whole face heat up – Wendy stood, abruptly shoving herself away from him, causing him to release the strand of hair he held. Turning, she glared down at him as he stared up at her; he didn't move, but instead, his eyes trailed noticeably down her body and lithe legs. Clenching her fists, Wendy stormed off down the hall.

"I'll meet you here after school, Wendy." He called to her cockily.

She didn't turn around, despite hearing him. She was furious; she was embarrassed and angry and frustrated with his disgusting behavior. But Wendy was even MORE disgusted with the fact that… she kind of liked it. Why? She had no idea. The raven-haired teen knew there was nothing likable about Eric Cartman.

So why was her brain arguing against her body? WHY was her body reacting the way it was? Eric wasn't supposed to make her blush. He was only supposed to arouse anger in her – not curiosity… not embarrassment… not nerves.

* * *

After school, Wendy was incredibly tempted to skip out on meeting Cartman and walk home. Unfortunately for her, Cartman must have anticipated her move – because when she got to her locker, he was already waiting there for her. She sighed and lowered her eyes; avoiding her eyes as she unlocked her locker and exchanged her books into her book bag.

"You seem more submissive than this morning." Cartman noted bemusedly. "I'm breaking you easier than I thought."

Wendy scowled. "Fuck you, fatass." She mumbled, slamming her locker and locking it. She aggressively took his hand, and began pulling him down the hall. "Just take me home, and let's get this day over with." She said.

When they got outside, Cartman tugged her back, successfully slowing her pace.

"Slow down, you impatient ho." He growled seriously. "The terms of this bet are under MY conditions. Not yours." He reminded her. Releasing her hand, he tossed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. "Put your arm around me." He ordered calmly.

Wendy kept her eyes down and slowly lifted her arm to drape around the back of Cartman's waist. As they headed to the car, she didn't look at him – and oddly enough, he didn't say anything until they reached it. But instead of unlocking the car, he stood in front of her by the passenger side. "How about a kiss for your boyfriend, hm?"

She didn't look at him. She couldn't. A sigh slowly passed her lips as she shook her head, "Haven't you degraded me enough?" Wendy asked gently. It wasn't that Cartman's behavior and demands ALONE were discouraging her… but she was disappointed in herself that he was successfully confusing her initial feelings.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt Cartman lean against her – her own smaller body easing against the side of his car. Wendy's eyes shot up to him as he pressed his lips against her ear, and spoke into it: "I don't want to degrade you." He corrected. "I just want you to fight back." He purred.

Eric wanted her to fight back? Fine. Feeling that familiar fire spark in her stomach, Wendy shoved him away from her. It was a forceful shove, but considering Cartman's height and muscle mass, it didn't make him falter too much. "There she is." He chuckled with a knowing grin.

Clicking the automatic button on his keys, his car 'bleeped' and the doors unlocked. Glaring at him, Wendy slipped in and shut the door as he rounded behind the car toward his side. While she was alone, Wendy took the time to take a deep breath in. That was strange. She'd ALMOST been completely exposed to him; she had ALMOST allowed him to get the best of her.

And it was only the first day.

* * *

Their car ride was mostly silent, and when they got to Wendy's house – he put the car in neutral. "Red panties, tomorrow. I think." He said aloud - a small smirk touching the corner of his lips.

His brown eyes shifted over to see Wendy staring back at him, before she rolled her eyes and got out of the car.

But an idea suddenly struck her. Why did she have to let HIM have all the power?

If he wanted to play dirty, she could do it right back. After all, to her knowledge, Cartman hadn't HAD a steady girlfriend in a while… and she KNEW he was obviously attracted to her. Why not play that to her advantage?

Smirking to herself, Wendy set her knapsack on the ground and bent over it, unzipping the bag and pretending to adjust her books. As she did so, her skirt rode up on her hips again, flashing Cartman yet another view of the black panties peeking out. She only stayed there for a minute, before she stood upright and slung her bag back over her shoulder. Glancing behind her, she saw Cartman was still parked in front of her house… his eyes glued right on her with a blank expression.

It was rare to see; no smirk, no grin, no glare, nothing but a mild look of… surprise?

Feeling more satisfied with herself, Wendy headed inside and didn't look back.

Maybe this bet wouldn't be as bad as she thought. Maybe she could manipulate all this to work in her favor, and embarrass and fluster Cartman as much as he was trying to embarrass and fluster her.

* * *

The next day, Wendy left her house and – once more – Cartman was already there, waiting for her. He smirked when she got closer. "Day two. Panty inspection." He mused.

Wendy quirked a brow, looking to him with an unamused expression before she looked toward the ground; spotting a dandelion growing amidst a few others at the edge of her yard. Bending over, she plucked it from the grass, giving him a quick view of the red panties he requested she wear.

Cartman grinned approvingly as she stood back up to face him. Wendy handed him the dandelion. "Satisfied?"

"Not for years." He mumbled, taking the dandelion with a scoff. Tossing the dandelion to the ground without a second thought – Cartman rounded the car to get in it, and Wendy followed; slipping into the passenger side again.

* * *

For some reason – Wendy didn't find the second day at school THAT bad. Cartman still gave her backhanded compliments and snide comments, and she still resisted his affections and demands… but she didn't feel quite as powerless as she had on the first day.

At one point, as Wendy lingered at her locker between classes, she was greeted by the familiar face of Gregory. "Hello Wendy." He greeted.

"Hi Gregory." She responded, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. While Cartman was pretentious, he was nowhere NEAR as pretentious as Gregory; the uptight, British blond boy was so well kept that he reminded Wendy of some kind of Southern Dandy.

The blond boy cleared his throat; "I hope you won't think it too forward of me to ask WHY you have decided to start seeing Eric Cartman." He said pointedly. "That young man is incredibly malicious, and will only drag a talented, intelligent young woman like you down."

"He's no different than any other boy." Wendy argued. "Everyone has an ugly side, and everyone has done something in their past that they're ashamed of. Seriously, he's not as horrible as everything thinks." She said distastefully.

Why the hell was she feeling the need to defend Eric to Gregory?

Perhaps if it had been anyone ELSE approaching her about Cartman, Wendy would have admitted that she was only dating him because it was a bet. But Gregory had proved to be an annoying little thorn in her side. He'd tried to swoop to her side after she and Stan broke up, but she kept him at bay with the: I'm-not-ready-to-date-anyone-yet excuse.

Gregory furrowed his brow. "Well past or not, his reputation alone is enough to drag your name through the mud."

The sound of a fist slamming against the lockers where the two students stood caused BOTH Gregory and Wendy to jump. Turning her head, Wendy saw Cartman slide in behind her; his dark eyes focused on Gregory in a protective glare. She took in a slow breath as she felt his broad, warm chest against her back. It actually made her feel good… she felt safe.

"Need something, Gregory?" Cartman snarled, his arm resting against the lockers and bordering along Wendy's shoulders – almost like he was shrouding her.

Gregory looked up at him; a hint of nervousness passing in his eyes, before he hardened his gaze. "Not from you." He responded formally, straightening his posture. "I was merely expressing my concern for the young woman's reputation. Especially when she associates with a vagabond like yourself." He said curtly.

"Oh, dear me Wendy, I am soooo sorry," Cartman mocked in a sarcastic 'concerned' tone. "I was not aware that the opinion of this pussy, blond cunt-hair was important to you." He said, looking back toward Gregory with a 'puzzled' look.

Wendy smirked. "It isn't." She agreed, staring at Gregory with a shrug. "I think he has me confused with someone who CARES what he thinks."

"Oh, that's a common mistake, Wendy." He chuckled, shaking his head. "NO ONE cares what Gregory thinks. You know that." Cartman mused; the two were talking like Gregory wasn't standing there.

The fake-couple stood there, looking at Gregory calmly – who seemed to be getting more agitated by the second. Turning on his heel, the British teen stormed off, undoubtedly going to tell Christophe his grievance with being teased and ridiculed.

"Pussy blond cunt-hair?" Wendy repeated, giggling a bit as she shook her head.

Cartman shrugged, "What? I thought that was a fairly accurate description, didn't you?" He smiled, looking down at her. Her eyes flickered up to meet his own chocolate-colored ones, a hint of gratefulness lingering in them, before she continued to fuss with fitting her books into her bag. "I'm going to have to keep a closer eye on you. Wearing that skirt and those heels all week is going to expose you to all kinds of assholes." He grumbled jealously.

"I've already GOT all the asshole I need having you around me for the next few days." She responded sarcastically.

But Cartman didn't take that as an insult. "Exactly." He smirked. "I'm your asshole… and you're my bitch. See why we don't need anyone else?"

"I'm going to be late for class." Wendy rolled her eyes, shutting her locker and giving him a slight glare.

As she went to turn, she felt Cartman grasp her arm and twirl her back toward him. She gasped as she was pulled against his broad chest, her hands bracing themselves there as she sheepishly looked up at him. "Aren't you going to thank me for scaring off that British faggot?" He purred.

Wendy's cheeks flushed a bit and she looked down – apparently, considering his request. That threw Cartman for a bit of a loop. Frankly, he expected her to tell him to fuck off, and storm back down the hall away from him. But the fact that she was blushing AND actually debating his request… caused a brief feeling of hope to flutter in his stomach. Damn her good looks. Damn her feisty spirit and spitfire anger. Damn her captivating eyes, curvy body and—

His thoughts were interrupted as he felt her soft lips gently kiss his cheek.

"Thank you." She mumbled quickly, before pulling herself out of his arms and disappearing quickly down the hall. Cartman's eyes lingered after her; he was actually taken aback by the move.

Damn her…

* * *

When he pulled his car up to her house, yet again, after their second day ended – he put it into neutral like he did before.

"Wear white tomorrow." He said, not even needing to voice the fact he was talking about her panties again.

Wendy just nodded and slipped out of the car. Gripping her knapsack in her hands, the female quickly disappeared into her house; sparing him a quick look before she closed the door. He was still parked outside… it was like he was waiting to make sure she got into the house safely before he left.

It caused that damn fluttering feeling to rise in her stomach again.

Dammit, what WAS that?

Eric, meanwhile, had waited until Wendy got inside for a very specific reason. In fact, he'd been thinking about it for most of the day. Keeping his car running, he stepped out of the vehicle and moved around the front of it… his eyes settling upon the dandelion that she'd handed him that morning – and that he'd tossed onto the sidewalk.

It was still there…

* * *

At the end of the third day – which happened to be Thursday – Cartman pulled up to her house as he always did… but to her surprise, actually parked the car and turned it off.

"What are you doing?" Wendy asked hesitantly, giving him a strange look.

Cartman smirked at her as he unbuckled his seat belt. Leaning toward her, Wendy tensed – suddenly struck with fear and anticipation. But he didn't do what she THOUGHT he was going to do. Instead, he reached his arm across her, and opened her door for her. "I am coming in to meet your parents."

"Y-You're… what?" Wendy asked hotly, glaring at him.

But he didn't answer; he just gave her a cocky smirk, before he slipped out of the car. Wendy scrambled to get her own seatbelt off – her cheeks flushing as she got out of the car and followed him as he walked confidently up her walkway… like he'd BEEN there before.

"You can't!" She argued weakly.

Cartman raised a brow, "That's funny, I don't remember YOU winning the bet." He reminded her. "You have to do what I say until Saturday. And right now, I want to meet your hippie parents." He grinned.

Wendy scowled at him nervously as she followed him into the house. Her heart was pounding. How was this going to play out? Was he going to embarrass her in front of her parents? Was he going to start ranting about Jews and Hitler? What about his obsession with Charles Manson, or Ted Bundy?

"How was school Wendy?" Her mother called from the kitchen.

Wendy cleared her throat. "F-Fine mom." She called back. She winced when she felt Cartman nudge her in the side. "Um… c-can you and dad come here for a second?"

"Alright, honey." Her mother answered. There was distant chatter coming from the kitchen as Wendy shifted nervously on her feet.

Her eyes moved back to Cartman, "DON'T embarrass me, Cartman." She warned. "Just because we're 'pretending' to date, doesn't mean I can't kick you in the balls."

Cartman just rolled his eyes and held up his finger; mockingly crossing it over his heart in a loose gesture before he held it in the air like he was 'swearing' to a courtroom. She glared at him one last time as her parents came out of the kitchen and through the living room toward them.

"Oh, hello." Her mother greeted pleasantly.

Wendy let out a quick breath, "Mom, Dad, uh… this is Eric. Cartman." She said awkwardly. "My… boyfriend." She mumbled quietly.

"Really?" Her mother said, surprise and excitement crossing her features. "Well it's nice to meet you, Eric."

He smiled at her. "It's nice to meet you, Ma'm." He said in a false, charming voice. At least, Wendy could tell it was false; she had no doubt her parents would fall for it. "I can certainly see where Wendy gets her good looks."

"That's a corny line, young man." Her father chuckled, reaching out to shake Eric's hand. "But the Testaburger women are suckers for flattery. You'll do well to keep it up." He said, firmly shaking the young man's hand.

Cartman grinned, "Flattery isn't hard to come by when your daughter is involved, sir." He answered with a nod.

"Good man." He laughed. His eyes moved back to his daughter, "Wendy, I hope you've already done the polite thing and offered Eric a place at our table for dinner?" He asked curiously raising a brow.

Wendy blushed, "N-No, dad… um… I think Ca— um, Eric has to get going." She said, giving a vague excuse.

"No, we insist." Her father continued. "Join us for dinner, Eric. I'm sure we'd BOTH like to get to know you a little better, since you ARE dating our daughter." He mused, looking over to his wife, who nodded back in agreement.

Cartman glanced at Wendy with a cocky smirk, before he nodded, "Dinner sounds great. Thank you." He said in a sickingly sweet tone.

"Good man." Her father said firmly, patting Eric on the shoulder.

The two adults began to head back into the kitchen, "We'll call you when dinner is ready, Wendy." Her mother smiled before they disappeared.

Huffing out an agitated breath, Wendy began to stomp upstairs with Cartman in tow. "I said it was going to be QUICK." She hissed uncomfortably.

"Hey, THEY invited me to dinner." He argued, holding up his hands mockingly. "It's not like I'm looking forward to eating with your overly-polite Liberal parents." He grumbled.

When they got to the top of the stairs, Wendy turned to narrow her eyes at him. "Don't you DARE mention anything at dinner about Liberals, or the fact that you're a Conservative, OR how brilliant you think Charles Manson was, OR your fascination with Nazi German History." She snapped quickly.

"Take all the fun out of it." He mumbled childishly, rolling his eyes as he walked past her without a second glance.

Wendy grit her teeth together and followed him into her room. When they got in there, she immediately took a seat at her desk chair, while he casually strolled around her room – examining pictures, objects, and the furniture. "Let's just sit here, and try to be as pleasant as possible until they call us for dinner." The dark-haired female said in a stern voice. "We'll get this over with, and then you're going to go home. I don't want to see you until tomorrow morning."

"If that's what you want." He mumbled, plopping down on the edge of her bed. He said casually on it - propping himself up with his hands, which were positioned slightly behind him.

They sat there in silence for a few moments. Wendy did her best not to look at him, but the fact that he was quiet bothered her – and finally, she turned her eyes to focus on him again.

To her surprise, he was staring at her. Wendy blushed uncomfortably and looked away.

"Come sit over here." He ordered.

Wendy snapped her head back to him. "No."

"Refusing my orders isn't part of the deal." He said calmly, though his voice had an edge of seriousness for it. "Your parents think we're dating. So until Saturday, you're going to play that part." He reminded her.

Letting out a trembling breath, Wendy stood and reluctantly moved over to sit beside Cartman on the bed. Again, silence filled the room – making Wendy all the more anxious. She could smell that faint scent of Cartman's cologne, and oddly enough, it was a pleasing one. "We haven't had a panty check today." He observed calmly.

"Well, what do you want me to bend over and pick up?" She asked in an annoyed tone.

Cartman shrugged. "Who said anything about bending over?" He asked, shifting closer to her on the bed.

"Nothing sexual." She reminded him quickly; her breathing beginning to get a bit labored.

But she didn't move, and neither did the brunette teen at her side. "Nothing sexual." He repeated, moving his hand to rest it on her leg. She stiffened and her face flushed again, as Cartman's fingers lightly trailed and tugged at the hem of her uniform skirt.

He kept his eyes focused on her as he slowly began to slide her skirt up her smooth, curvy thighs. Wendy's breathing became more and more shallow as he continued; the feeling of the back of his fingers trailing up her soft skin sent a shiver down her spine, that she struggled to suppress. Wendy could only focus on the skirt he was gently riding up her thighs – while his eyes didn't leave her for a second.

When his hand shifted, and finally lifted the skirt up a tiny bit – his eyes flickered down to see the flash of pink contrasting against the dull, dark gray color of the uniform skirt. He couldn't help but notice her thighs were clenched together nervously… and frankly, he'd never been more aroused.

He couldn't believe she'd let him DO that.

Without letting another second pass, Cartman quickly tugged her skirt back down, covering her legs again.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" He breathed out, looking away from her as his own face began to feel a bit heated. Placing his hands back down on either side of him, Cartman drew in a labored breath - like he was trying to calm himself down. What the hell? Why would she just let him get away with something like THAT? I mean, it wasn't the most brazen thing he'd ever done… but shit, she was a feminist! And yet, she just LET him hike up her skirt? He'd been about two seconds from giving into temptation, and just feeling her up right then and there.

But he'd been expecting her to stop him before he'd gotten too far. When she DIDN'T – Cartman made an uncharacteristic display of restraint.

Looking back over to her amidst the silence – he saw Wendy was staring at him; her cheeks flushed and her eyes looking a bit confused… even vulnerable.

"What?" He said, shifting uncomfortably as he scowled. He didn't want her looking at him like that. He even started to feel guilty, like he'd just taken advantage of her. Why should he CARE? He never did before!

But shockingly, Wendy lunged at him – her arms wrapping around his neck as she pressed her lips against his own. Cartman's eyes widened as she began to kiss him… but it didn't take long for him to snap out of his daze, and wrap his arms around her small waist; holding her against him as he started to kiss her back. Fuck it was hot. Their tongues and lips meshed together hotly… and he didn't even have to coax her. Wendy crawled into his lap – straddling his thighs as her arms tightened around his neck.

Cartman moaned as his hands slid from around her waist; rubbing along her back before relocating to her thighs; sliding up and feeling the warm, soft skin lingering beneath her skirt. Now it was Wendy's turn to moan, as the strong, brunette began to run his hands along her smooth thighs.

When his fingers inched up to tug at the hem of her pink panties, a surprised whine escaped from the back of Wendy's throat – and she pushed herself away from him; stumbling off and away from the bed.

Cartman looked up at her, slightly surprised and panting heavily.

"Sorry…" He mumbled quietly, taking a deep breath as their eyes stayed glued on one another. "Nothing sexual." He sighed.

Wendy nodded, tugging her skirt down anxiously. "N-Nothing sexual." She repeated.

"Wendy!" Her mother's voice called. "Dinner!"

The two stared at one another awkwardly, before Wendy straightened herself up and led the way downstairs. Cartman followed, trying to push that last moment out of his head. Seriously – what the fuck? She was sending him mixed signals all over the place. He'd been convinced when they started that Wendy HATED him; that he repulsed her, and that never, in a million years, would she look at him the way he looked at her.

But now, Wendy was succeeding with someone that FEW people had ever succeeded in doing…

She was making Eric Cartman doubt himself.

And he NEVER doubted himself.

* * *

Dinner went over rather well. Cartman kept his promise about avoiding the topic of Charles Manson, or any of his other alleged 'heroes'… but he DID get into a debate with Wendy's father about the US government. Surprisingly, he was restrained and professional about his stance – and since her father was an educated man, the two were able to debate energetically over dinner, without getting angry or upset.

Wendy had to admit that she could see WHY Cartman did such a good job on the debating team; he could persuade a sheep to walk off with a wolf if he had to. And debate wasn't an easy thing to be good at. It took poise, it took restraint and passion – and you had to be knowledgeable about your subject in order to get your point across and refute your opponent's argument.

It seemed that Cartman's natural, confrontational tendencies finally found a good outlet.

After it was over, her parents bid him goodnight, and Wendy escorted him outside to their front lawn – where his car was still parked along the curb. Wendy was about to speak, but she noticed her mother peeking out their living room window at them.

"My mom's looking…" She sighed awkwardly.

Cartman smirked, "She's waiting to see if you kiss me goodnight." He told her. "So SINCE we're playing up this bet – you better do something." He purred.

Wendy brought her eyes up to meet his, and there was a brief moment of silence that fell between them… before Wendy stood on her toes, and gently kissed the corner of his lips – before she pulled back. It wasn't a full-on kiss, and it wasn't passionate (not like it had been in her room)… it was just a simple peck. Glancing behind the tall brunette boy, she saw her mother smile and disappear from the window.

"Thank you for not causing a scene." Wendy sighed, looking at the ground as they stood near her closed front door. "And for keeping the conversation away from your demented, childhood idols."

Cartman shrugged, looking down at the short female with a small smirk. "I'll save THOSE conversations for another time. Your parents like me." He boasted.

"They like the IDEA of you." Wendy corrected with a slight roll of her eyes as she crossed her arms. "But they don't know you like I do."

For some reason, that comment hit a chord with Cartman – though he didn't show it on his face. "You're right." He mumbled, stepping away from the door. "They'll come to hate me, just like you do." He mused carelessly, turning away and stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walked toward his car. "Wear white panties tomorrow." He called back to her.

Wendy frowned as he walked away.

Why did she feel a pang of guilt after that comment? Normally, saying those kinds of things to bruise Cartman's ego didn't make her feel bad. He deserved it. The things he said to other people were MUCH worse. Besides, his ego could stand to be taken down a peg or two.

The sound of his car starting up distracted her from her thoughts, and Wendy watched him drive away – down the street and out of sight. Sighing, she turned and slipped back into her house.

Thank god she only had TWO more days of this. After Saturday, she could go back to normal – and wouldn't have to pretend to be Eric Cartman's girlfriend anymore.

Then she'd be happy right?

Everything would go back to normal.

* * *

Friday started out like the rest of the week. Cartman picked Wendy up. She bent over to check something in her bag, giving him a flash of the white panties she was wearing today – before they got in the car and drove toward the high school.

The only thing that made Friday different than the past few days… was that they actually CHATTED in the car during the drive. It was mostly tossing back random, playful insults and debate until they pulled into the school parking lot. Cartman chose his regular spot, and the two slipped out of the car. Wendy shut the door, and made her way over to Cartman – who clicked the button on his keys and locked the car with a 'beep'. Out of habit, Wendy slipped her hand into Cartman's willingly as they walked toward the school.

They both seemed to be a bit more relaxed. Perhaps the kiss they'd shared in Wendy's bedroom had successfully relieved the sexual tension between them. The raven-haired female immediately remembered the time in fourth grade when they had to do a project about the South Park flag. She'd felt attracted to him then for the first time – and kissed him to get it over with.

After that, she'd felt GREAT, and the tension was gone.

The pretend-couple walked into their first period class together confidently and took their respective seats next to one another. They chatted and exchange flirtatious insults back and forth before the class actually began.

When it was over, the two parted ways – and Wendy soon found her best friend glued to her side. "So? You seem to be rather chipper this morning." She squeaked eagerly. "Did you kiss him?"

"What?" Wendy gasped, looking to the blond with a shocked expression; a blush tinting her cheeks. "No."

Bebe just grinned wider. "Oh my god, you DID." She giggled. "I can tell. You totally, passionately, lustfully, madly, deeply kissed him, didn't you?"

"I-It was just ONCE." Wendy argued, shaking her head embarrassingly. "And it was just a lapse in judgment." She said uncomfortably shifting her books in her arms as they walked into their next class. "He's still a disgusting human being; he's a liar, he's malicious and he's arrogantly sexist." She repeated, as if reassuring herself.

The blond rolled her eyes, "Calm down Wendy, it's not a big deal." She mumbled with a careless shrug. "If this is bothering you THAT much – then be grateful that it's all over after the dance on Saturday."

"Yeah." She answered with a sigh. Knowing her conflict with her emotions regarding Cartman shouldn't affect her friendship – Wendy changed the subject. "So, do you have a date for the dance?"

Bebe's face lit up. "Yup. Clyde." She cooed with a flirtatious smile. "He's bringing me a new pair of shoes tomorrow when he picks me up instead of a corsage."

"That's terrible." Wendy laughed, shaking her head. "He's going to realize sooner or later that you're just using him for shoes."

The blond shrugged cutely, "It's just not that. Clyde's a cutie. True, he's not the BRIGHTEST guy, but hell, he makes me laugh and he gets me free and discounted shoes."

"He's a lucky guy." The raven-haired teen smirked, flipping open her notebook.

As their class started, Wendy's mind shifted back to Cartman again. Any feelings she was developing toward him were wrong; she was just lonely, and given the circumstances of their 'fake' relationship – she was bound to have a moment of weakness, right? Wendy forced herself to think back to every nasty thing Cartman had ever done; from constantly picking on people like Butters Stotch or Kyle Broflovski, to anything and everything he'd ever done to her; from bitching and sabotaging her position on student council in elementary school – to their fist fight over his uncaring comments about breast cancer.

Just thinking about it made her blood boil again.

Eric Cartman was evil, and she couldn't forget it…

* * *

Unlocking her locker, Wendy quickly exchanged her books. She didn't feel like seeing Eric anymore today – and she hoped that if she was FAST, she could avoid him.

"…'Sup ho." The condescending voice of Cartman grated on her nerves as he walked up and stood beside her; leaning against the neighboring lockers beside her.

Wendy kept her eyes ahead, before she slammed her locker shut and glared at him. "Don't call me that." She snapped – past memories of Eric Cartman reeling through her mind, since she'd been stewing over them during her previous class. "Let's just act civil to one another, and tomorrow after the dance, we can just forget about this stupid bet and go back to normal."

Cartman frowned as the female turned and tried to walk away – but he was quick to catch her arm; glaring at her as he turned Wendy back toward him.

"What the hell crawled up your ass, bitch?" He snapped. "Fuck, you weren't THIS pissy this morning." Cartman mumbled, looking her up and down oddly. "You on your period, or something? … Did Gregory hit on you again?" He asked, seeming to get a bit angry when he offered that last scenario.

It threw her off a bit that he was asking WHAT was wrong. Since when did Eric care WHY she was in a bad mood?

Wendy yanked her arm away from him. "I'm NOT on my period. Jesus, every time a girl snaps at you, you automatically think they are on their period. It's just another example of how sexist and stupid you really are."

"Look, you might be getting eager for this bet to end, but it's NOT over YET. So you still have to do what I tell you." He grumbled. "You've come THIS far, and everyone already thinks we're dating. So you might as well just ride it out." Cartman argued. "Besides… I know you well enough to know that having the satisfaction of 'dumping me' next Monday is too tempting… and you WANT that satisfaction."

The dark-haired female scowled at him, before she tugged her arm out of his grasp. "I have to get to class." She said sharply.

"Go then." He shrugged. "We're eating in the cafeteria today." Cartman told her sternly. "Everyone deserves to see how 'loving' we are before the dance on Saturday." He smirked wickedly, before turning and leaving her there.

Wendy trembled with anger, before she growled to herself and stormed back down the hall to her next class. Why had she been DUMB enough to feel anything other than annoyance toward that despicable human being? Her father was right; she was a romantic. And it was that rarely seen 'romantic' side that had taken over her heart briefly. Deep down, she had wondered if she could CHANGE Eric Cartman. Maybe dating him wouldn't be so bad, and she could help curb his nastier, more hostile comments and behavior.

But thinking back to everything he'd done – and the WAY in which this bet had come to pass – reminded her that Cartman would never change. He'd manipulated her into thinking she could win the bet against him… he'd manipulated the deal that they would 'date' for a week; he told her what kind of panties to wear, and he felt her up in her bedroom. Of course, SHE had kissed him too… but that was just because he'd gotten her so flustered.

She regretted it now, and felt incredibly stupid.

* * *

By lunch, Wendy was feeling depressed and angry. This whole thing was agitating her to know end.

"Hey Wends." Stan greeted, pulling Wendy out of her slump, as she was about to pass his table. He was sitting beside his super-best boyfriend – who was currently nose-deep in some book he was reading. "How's the new boyfriend?" He teased.

She noticed Kyle quirk a brow and spare her a glance, but he didn't say anything, and continued to read his book. "Oh Christ, we're not ACTUALLY dating, Stan." Wendy huffed, crossing her arms. "I made a stupid bet with that asshole that I'd get a higher grade on a test… and he WON, so I had to pretend to be his girlfriend for the week." She explained angrily. "I'll be so fucking relieved when this is all over."

"Huh. Um, ok?" Stan answered, giving her a slightly odd look. "Bebe seemed to be under the impression that you guys were hitting it off." He admitted.

Wendy's eyes darkened with that familiar temper that Stan was MORE than aware of. "Well she's WRONG." She snapped. "He's just interested in making me look foolish – not a REAL relationship. It just one of his schemes."

"I dunno, Wends." Stan shrugged with a small smirk. "He's liked you for a while. I mean, come on, why do you think he busted your balls so much in elementary school?" The noirette pointed out. "Besides, malicious asshole or not – Cartman only makes bets for things he REALLY wants."

That stupid feeling fluttered in her stomach again – but she immediately pushed it down. "Yes, and what he REALLY wants – is to embarrass me, Stanley." She yelled. "He's a selfish, conceited, egotistical asshole, who is just trying to use people as means to get what HE wants!" She began to rant passionately. "He doesn't respect women, he is confrontational, pushy and SO sexist that it makes me want to rip my hair out!"

"Woah, Wends, calm down." Stan mumbled awkwardly. By this time, Kyle had looked up from his book and was staring at Wendy like she was nuts. Not to mention, half the tables around them were beginning to take notice.

But she ignored her ex and continued justifying her point aloud; "I never should have agreed to this stupid bet! It's so pathetic!" She scoffed distastefully. "No one else will TOUCH him, so he has to FORCE someone to be his girlfriend! And surprise-surprise, I gave him a way to get me BACK in the best way possible! Now he can fuck me over, and embarrass me in front of everyone! I can only imagine what he'll have me do at the dance. And I actually LET myself get into this mess! It wouldn't be so bad if he just showed a FEW acts of kindness once in a while… but no. He grew up with a mom who doted on his every whim – who babied him and who slept around like a stupid fucking whore! Of COURSE he objectifies women and doesn't respect them; with a mom like that I guess I can't really BLAME him!" She yelled.

The whole section of their cafeteria seemed to be staring at her quietly – and that included Stan and Kyle; though their expressions were a bit more awkward, and even a little embarrassed.

After taking a few deep breaths – Stan shifted in his seat beside his redheaded boyfriend. "Um… hey Cartman." He greeted quietly.

Wendy spun her head around to see Cartman standing a few feet behind her; his eyes burning holes through her own, causing her to blush with the sudden realization of everything that he just flown out of her mouth.

"Shut it, fag." He grumbled, sparing a glance to Kyle and Stan. Looking back up to Wendy – she clearly saw a look of hurt lingering in his brown orbs, amidst the anger, resentment and embarrassment he was surely feeling after she'd tore him up in front of everyone. "I always said that mouth of yours would get you into trouble, you stupid bitch…" He commented distastefully, before he turned and walked out of the cafeteria.

The dark-haired female opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The only thing she felt was guilt, stabbing her repeatedly in the heart as he disappeared out of sight.

* * *

She didn't see Cartman for the rest of the day… but oddly enough, he was waiting by her locker when they finished school.

"What are you doing here?" She asked cautiously.

Cartman spared her a quick glare, before he looked away from her. "The fuck you on?" He growled. "I'm waiting to drive you home like I have every other day this week. A bet's still a bet, no matter how much of a bitch you want to be." He snapped harshly. "Just hurry the fuck up."

Wendy gathered her books as quickly as she could, and followed him down the halls and outside. Figuring he might want to keep their usual routine, she reached over and slipped her hand into his. But his reaction was to shove her hand away, and instead, stick his hands into the pockets of his uniform pants.

She felt awful.

Her temper got the best of her sometimes… and no matter WHAT Cartman had done in the past, she had no right to hold it against him. Thinking back to her rant, she realized how awful and embarrassing it might have sounded to him. She had badmouthed him AND his mother within the span of three minutes to most of their Senior year.

The car ride home was a silent, uncomfortable one – and when they stopped in front of her house, Wendy sighed; trying to build up the courage to apologize.

"I'll pick you up for the dance around seven-thirty." He instructed coldly.

Her eyes flickered over toward him. "Oh… I… didn't think you'd want to g—"

"A bet is a BET. What part of that don't you understand?" He snapped impatiently.

Another brief silence staggered between them, before Wendy spoke again. "What kind of panties do you want me to wear?" She asked – hoping that maybe reverting back to their playful routine might cheer him up.

It didn't.

"I don't give a fuck." He grumbled, looking straight ahead at the road and not at her. "Get out."

Looking down, heavy with shame, Wendy slipped out of the car. Before she could even turn around to spare him another sympathetic look – Cartman was taking off down the road and out of sight.

* * *

She'd spent most of the following Saturday stewing over her blow up on Friday. If possible, she felt even WORSE now than she did then. All the tension that had built up over the past few days had exploded in the worst way, and there was only one reason for it…

She was starting to have feelings for Eric Cartman.

It almost made her stomach turn to admit it… but it was the only explanation. He could confuse her with a backhanded compliment; something that made her angry, but also flattered her at the same time. He pushed her to retaliate and fight back, and didn't seem phased by any of her sarcastic insults. Not to mention, he seemed like the over-protective type; and the more Wendy allowed herself to daydream, the more convinced she was that Eric Cartman WOULDN'T necessarily be a bad boyfriend. He would be a bit pushy and arrogant, yes, but he seemed to get off on that. The brunette was attentive, he'd open car doors for her, he'd warded off Gregory's annoying advances, and to her surprise, and he rivaled HER grades with good ones of his own. Obviously he was intelligent enough. And truth be told, Wendy found herself a little hot at the idea of arguing.

After a quick dinner, she'd showered and gotten herself ready for the dance; feeling more nervous and anxious now than she had during the whole rest of the week. Wendy had chosen a simple, spaghetti strapped black dress - which fell just above her knees and hugged to the curves of her body in a flattering, fit way. She paired it with a simple silver necklace with a small diamond at the end of it, small diamond stud earrings, and simple black heels. Her hair was tossed up into a loose bun as some dark tendrils strayed around her heart shaped face.

Looking herself over in the mirror as she held a small, black clutch handbag – Wendy thought she didn't look half bad. But inside, she didn't feel HALF as good as she looked. She was nervous about the evening. She'd hurt Cartman's feelings… and she KNEW it, despite what he might say. Maybe she could make it up to him by being pleasant tonight; maybe she could make the effort.

Hearing her doorbell ring, Wendy walked down the stairs and opened the door. Both Cartman and Wendy seemed surprised at the appearance of the other. He was impeccably dressed; black jacket and pants, which were tailored perfectly to his toned, tall form. He was wearing a crisp white shirt beneath his black jacket and a simple black tie. To be honest, Wendy thought he looked rather dashing; he appeared sophisticated and handsome.

Cartman, in a similar fashion, took in Wendy's appearance. Damn, she looked good; she looked classy and refined – and he'd never found himself more resentful that she wasn't ACTUALLY his girlfriend. She'd look good on his arm.

"Your parents here?" He asked in a gruff voice, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Wendy shook her head, "N-No. They went out to dinner with some friends." She explained, holding her small, black clutch purse loosely in her hand.

"Good." He mumbled. "Let's go."

The female followed Cartman outside and locked her door behind her. She took a few quick steps; black heels clicking against the ground as she caught up to him and slipped into his car. Turning on the ignition, Cartman began to pull away from the curb when Wendy spotted something. It was a small corsage; but it wasn't flashy or extravagant. In fact, it featured a single dandelion. "What is that?" She asked curiously.

Cartman flicked his eyes toward it, before he looked back toward the road.

"It's your corsage, you stupid bitch." He grumbled. "You don't have to wear it." He added discouragingly.

Wendy furrowed her brow, "Why a dandelion?" She asked suspiciously.

"It's the dandelion you PICKED on the second day of our bet; the dandelion you picked when you bent over to flash me your red panties… the dandelion that you handed me, and that I tossed on the sidewalk before we left." He sighed impatiently, obviously not comfortable explaining its origins. "I picked it back up after I dropped you off and you went inside."

She stared at him through the entire explanation in shock. She couldn't believe he would do something so… sweet. So romantic. No one had ever done anything THAT sweet for her before; not even Stan, during the entire length of their on-and-off relationship. It made that guilt come rushing back, and her stomach turned.

Taking the corsage gently in her hands, Wendy slipped it on and admired it. The dandelion looked a bit wilted, but she didn't care. It didn't matter; the sentiment and story behind its origin was more important.

"Thank you, Cartman." She said gently, looking over to him.

But he still didn't look at her.

* * *

When they reached the dance, Cartman still parked in his usual spot and clicked the 'lock' on his keys before they started to walk toward the gym; the music thumping from inside could faintly be heard in the otherwise quiet South Park evening.

Their walk across the empty parking lot that was riddled only with cars, and no people, Cartman cleared his throat. "Hold onto my arm." He told her firmly. "I'm aware you hate me, but this bet isn't over till eleven o'clock tonight. So suck it up." He grumbled.

"Cartman…" Wendy began gently, slipping her arm through his. "What I said earlier… it… that wasn't re—"

But he interrupted her curtly. "I don't wanna talk about it." He said quickly. "I'm going to do you a favor, Wendy – even though I don't OWE you anything." He started harshly. "I'm going to make this night go as quickly as possible for you. As soon as the dance is over, I'll drop you off – and you can go back to your perfect life with your perfect parents, while I go home to my 'whore' of a mother." He said, referring to her earlier comments.

"Eric." Wendy said more firmly, tugging on his arm and stopping their pace. He stopped, but kept his eyes focused over her head – determined not to look at her. "Eric, I'm sorry." She apologized quietly. "What I said was… completely out of line. I-I was just so…" She stopped herself. "I've been feeling kind of… I mean… you're NOT really…" She couldn't get out a full sentence and it was driving her mad. It also didn't help that Cartman STILL wouldn't meet her eyes. "Eric, will you please look at me when I'm speaking to you?" She asked, her voice taking on a bit of an irritated edge.

But she wasn't irritated just at him; she was more irritated at herself for embarrassing him and ripping on him and his mother in the middle of the cafeteria. There was no excuse for that – no matter HOW stressed or confused she was.

Cartman let out a heavy sigh, and shook his head. "I can't look at you." He answered firmly. "If I look at you, in YOUR eyes, I'll want to forgive you… and if I never look at you again, I can stay angry – and we'll BOTH be better off." He growled, turning and leading them toward the gym again.

"I don't WANT you to hate me, Eric…" Wendy pleaded.

Eric shook his head, scoffing slightly. "Well you don't want me to LIKE you either. It's not my fault you're a confused bitch." He muttered.

Wendy lowered her eyes and followed him into the gym. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. AGAIN. She had been trying so hard to convince herself she DIDN'T like him, she COULDN'T like him… and now… she WANTED him to like her. She had ruined this, not him. She had basically sabotaged herself by convincing herself that it was CARTMAN who was trying to sabotage her.

After he gave the ticket holder their formal tickets, the two slipped into the dark gym, which was flooded with colorful lights and decorated tables. Their entire senior class was mingling all around; some were dancing, some were sitting at the tables, and others were just standing around and chatting.

Wendy felt Cartman's arm slip from her grip – and just as her eyes turned to look at him… she saw his broad, retreating shoulders disappearing into the crowds of students. She opened her mouth to call out to him, but realized with the music and social buzz around them, it wouldn't do any good. Besides, still he seemed incredibly upset, and it only made her feel worse.

Clutching her black handbag in front of her, Wendy gazed around the dance – feeling kind of lost as to what she should do. But as always, her bubbly, blond best friend came through. She caught sight of Bebe (wearing a scantily short red dress) waving her over to her table. Wendy smiled gratefully and maneuvered through the crowd.

"Wendy, you look gorgeous! Tres chic!" Bebe gushed with a giggle.

The dark-haired female smiled, "Thanks – you look good, Bebe." She smiled weakly.

"I thought I saw Cartman skulking through the crowd," She began, making a point of looking again. "Is he still pissed?"

Wendy sighed, "Yeah… and I don't know what to do." She said, a hint of desperation lacing in her normally calm and rational voice. "I apologized, but… shit, Bebe, I tore him apart the other day… his mom too."

"I'm sure it'll work out, honey." Bebe soothed, wrapping her arm around her best friend. Leading her to their table, Wendy found herself seated with Bebe, Clyde, Token, Red, Craig and Tweek.

She tried to enjoy herself and listen to the conversations everyone else was having… but it was hard not to feel like a third-wheel. Clyde and Bebe were flirting up a storm as he tried to suck on her neck. Token and Red were laughing and connecting in a much 'deeper' way, though Wendy doubted anyone else would notice. And Craig was flustering his poor, paranoid boyfriend by whispering in his ear as he felt him up beneath the table. Even though it was dark, Wendy could still see a deep blush settled on Tweek's cheeks.

Wendy might be inclined to think the relationships of her friends were cute or interesting… but it was hard to care when her own guilt was eating her alive.

Her finger lightly began to trace the rim of the wine glass that sat on their table – filled with ice water. It was a nicely decorated dance… and if things hadn't gone so horribly wrong, Wendy knew she might actually be enjoying herself – with CARTMAN of all people.

Unfortunately, since Wendy was so lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice her fellow table members get up and begin to dance. When her eyes flickered up, she frowned to see she was now sitting alone at the nicely spread table. Well – she DESERVED to be alone, after the way she'd behaved.

"Good evening, Wendy."

She closed her eyes irritably as the familiar voice of Gregory filled her ears. Looking up, she saw the blond dressed in a nice, tailored suit; his blond hair was neatly kept, as it always was. It's not that he was BAD looking… but frankly… Wendy couldn't help but compare him to Cartman, and the way he had looked at her door; strong, dashing, handsome and sophisticated. Gregory just looked pompous and preppy. "Hi." She greeted in a LESS than enthusiastic tone.

"You look absolutely stunning," He purred, resting a hand on the back of her chair as he stood beside her. "So stunning, in fact, that I would be a fool to pass up the chance to ask you to dance."

Wendy winced and kept her eyes focused on the table. "Thank you, Gregory, but… I'm not really in the mood."

"Nonsense." The British teen insisted, taking her hand and tugging her to her feet. "This is a dance. What purpose would bring you here, if not to enjoy that very festivity with our classmates?"

She rolled her eyes. God, he sounded ridiculous; did Gregory actually think that sounded charming? Reluctantly following him to the dance floor, Wendy looked more sullen as Gregory began to dance with her. Their friends and fellow couples were also dancing to the current slow song, which happened to be 'You Only Live Twice' by Bjork.

Each time he tried to pull her closer against him, Wendy leaned back a little further. "You know Wendy, we could do great things together." Gregory began, staring at her with hooded eyes. "With our combined intelligence… our charisma… our political views and stability – we could live a successful life with one another." He coaxed. "I'm sure with your grades, you could easily accompany me to Oxford. I long to return to England. You would like it there." He began to explain, like it was already decided.

Wendy glared at him, and was about to speak up – before someone else chimed in:

"England? Why the fuck would anyone want to live in such a faggy little country with you tea-drinking dicklickers?" A sarcastic tone interrupted.

Both looked over to see Cartman standing there; Gregory only glared at him, but Wendy couldn't stop the grateful smile from growing on her lips. "You're interrupting, you fat oaf." Gregory muttered unhappily. "If you wish to dance with Miss Testaburger, then you'll have to wait like a proper gentlemen. As difficult as that might be." He sneered.

"Huh." Cartman mused, glancing up to the ceiling in thought. "Well your first mistake is thinking that I'm a proper gentlemen. Your second mistake is assuming that I would rather dance with this ho, instead of kicking your ass." He growled with a smirk. Shoving the blond teen away from his date, Cartman wrapped his arms around her. "Go play with yourself, Faggory." He spat, childishly changing his name.

Gregory glared at him, but more concerned with his dignity – he simply straightened his suit and stormed off the dance floor.

"That wasn't cool, Cartman." Kyle interjected; currently dancing with his raven-haired boyfriend.

Cartman scoffed, "Fuck you, Kahl." He shrugged.

Wendy sighed in relief and embraced the feeling of Cartman's arm around her waist, while his other hand held her own in his as they continued to dance. She looked up at him apologetically, "I really am sorry, Eric." Wendy admitted. "That was so wrong of me. I just—"

"You don't need to keep apologizing." Cartman interrupted in a scolding tone. "You seem to be forgetting that I've belittled and badmouthed about a thousand people in my lifetime – including YOU - and I'm only eighteen." He muttered. "Karma's a bitch… like you… so it's not like I have any real reason to stay mad." He said.

Wendy gave him a small smile and leaned against his broader frame as they danced. His deep brown eyes finally looked down into her beautiful orbs calmly. "But don't talk about my mom like that again." He warned her. "She has a bad reputation, and everyone knows they can attack ME by attacking her. But I love my mom, and she's done a LOT for me over the years … including putting some of that 'whoring' money into a savings account so I can go to university after I graduate." He pointed out sternly. "She's the only one who EVER put up with my behavior, kept me well-fed, supported me, and loved me."

The female looked down sadly.

"She sounds like a good mom."

Cartman quirked a brow; "Better than yours." He mumbled, giving her a cocky smirk. "But you didn't know. Stupid ho's don't learn until you teach them… so… you're allowed one mistake."

"Fuck you." Wendy said, rolling her eyes.

The tall brunette pulled her closer. "I don't think that's our biggest problem." He continued. "If anything, it's the fact your dad is a ginger – which means you carry the ginger gene."

"Are you kidding?" Wendy debated. "Your father and STEP brother are gingers. You carry it, too. You're half ginger." She argued playfully. "I'd be more concerned about our son growing up and chopping YOU into chili."

Cartman grinned, "Already thinking about me pounding your ass and putting a baby inside you?"

Wendy blushed.

"You wish. I don't want a ginger. We'll adopt." She offered.

He nodded. "Good call. Let's get a little German brat."

"No." Wendy denied quickly. "We're not getting a German one, and we're not naming any child 'Adolf' or 'Charles' or 'Ted' or any other sick twisted names that pay homage to any murderers who have weaseled their way into the history books."

Cartman tilted his head, rolling his eyes up toward the ceiling in thought. "We can discuss that later."

"There's nothing to discuss, we aren't—" But Wendy wasn't able to finish her argument, because her capacity to form words IMMEDIATELY flew from her mind when she felt Cartman's lips trailing along the smooth column of her neck.

Wendy's eyes fluttered and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She heard him chuckle deeply against her throat, "It was only yesterday that you dragged me through the mud. Now, you're talking about adopting a kid with me." He muttered. "You're fucked up in the head, Wendy."

"But that's why you like me." She purred, nestling her nose against his.

Cartman shook his head, "I like you because you've got rockin' tits and a short temper." He answered. Pausing, their eyes met as he leaned his forehead down and rested it against hers. "Aside from that… I hate you."

"I hate you, too." Wendy said gently, placing a brief, soft peck on his lips.

* * *

**E P I L O G U E**

.

.

"Come oooooon, it's my birthday." Cartman complained childishly as they stood by their lockers.

Wendy smirked, "I don't care, asshole. I'm not giving you a blow-job in the bathroom."

"You're no fun." He grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the lockers next to hers. "Come off your high horse for once, Testaburger." Cartman coaxed. "Just because we're honor students doesn't mean we need to play by the rules. If ANYTHING, we're smarter than everyone else, which MEANS: we have an easier time of talking our way out of trouble if we're caught." He purred wickedly.

She shook her head; "I'd rather use my intelligence for 'good' rather than 'evil'." She argued.

"Lame." He mumbled. Sighing, he watched lazily as the students population began to thin out in the hall, as everyone headed into their classes. "So what ARE you going to give me for my birthday?" He pressed. "You have to give me SOMETHING. It's the rules."

Glancing up and down the hall, Wendy looked back to him playfully. "You'll have to wait until school's over." She shrugged.

"Come on, ho." He grinned. "Give me a hint, at least. You're not THAT cold; you obviously got me something. What did you get me?" He pressed.

Wendy looked up and down the hall again to see that it was empty. Looking back to Cartman, she quirked a brow and held up a pencil for him to see. He quirked a brow in confusion as she dropped it onto the ground, and turned away from him; as she bent down to pick it up, he saw a flash of the panties beneath her skirt.

His mouth dropped open as he stared at her perfect ass, sporting blood red panties with a black swastika in the middle.

"Jesus…" He groaned huskily, as he watched her straighten back up, holding the pencil.

Turning back around to face him, Wendy had a confident smile on her lips. "I told you. No hints until school's over." She sighed nonchalantly, like the 'hint' she'd just given him had been accidental.

"I hate you." He growled, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him eagerly.

Wendy leaned up and nipped at his lower lip. "I hate you too." Their lips met in a heated kiss, which - unfortunately for them both - only lasted a few seconds. But Wendy had to stop it before it escalated. "I'm already late for class. Piss off." She moaned.

"You're a cocktease, Testaburger." Cartman scoffed. "You always were."

But before they parted ways, Wendy tugged on Cartman's arm, pulling his eyes back to meet her own. "I love you." She said in a softer voice.

A genuine, small smile grew on Cartman's lips; Wendy could only imagine that he didn't HEAR that word often, if at all. In fact, she'd bet the only person who ever said they 'loved' him, was his mother. She waited with baited breath to hear him respond…

"I know." He shrugged cockily.

Wendy's eyes narrowed into an unimpressed glare.


	16. Robbed :: Style, Creek, Kytophe, Bunny

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD... like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings:** Multiple

**Summary:** This is just a series of one-shots... I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, Non-Refundable, etc).

**Notes I:** There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II:** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics... I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE - I'd like your opinions as well... so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know

**Notes III:** A little sexy adventure never hurt anyone

**Song:** Mind Heist – by – Zack Hemsey

(good song! If you haven't seen 'Inception' GO SEE IT!)

* * *

People immediately began to scream as a shot was fired into the air.

Bank customers and staff alike began to duck down; dropping like flies as the attackers flooded in. More shots were fired and the guards were quickly disarmed and sent flying to the ground with the rest of the hostages.

Three of the robbers were wearing 'Terrance' masks, while the other three were wearing 'Phillip' masks. "Nobody panic, and nobody move!" One of the thieves shouted, once more firing his gun into the air.

Four of the hooligans kept their guns and weapons on the hostages – rounding them all out to the front, even the cashiers from the back. The other two hopped over the counter and headed back toward the safe with a large, plastic suitcase. One hopped onto the counter while the other continued on; pointing his 9mm, the robber on the bank-counter shot out each security camera with excellent precision and marksmanship – before hopping down, and continuing after the other. Reaching the large safe, one Terrance and one Phillip knelt in front of it – clicking open the large suitcase and taking out a rather complicated looking technical device. Pressing four separate suction cups against the door, they hooked a number of wires up to a currently loading, small laptop.

"…Ow long weel zhis take?" The robber in the Phillip mask asked impatiently.

The Terrance mask sighed, "Darling, we've been over this…" A British voice mused. "By the time you finish disabling the silent alarm, the vault will be open." He purred.

The Phillip burglar grumbled something beneath his mask, before he kicked in a nearby 'employees only' door – disappearing from the vault alcove and jogging up a back stairwell. When he reached the top floor, he passed a steel ladder; looking up, he noted the passage to the roof, before he kept going toward a large fuse box. Cracking open the lock by hitting it with the butt of his gun – the Phillip burglar took out a switchblade and cut a number of precisely positioned wires, before flicking the blade closed and concealing it on his person once again.

Heading back toward the ladder, which led to the roof, the young robber quickly scaled it, and emerged onto the cool morning air. Reaching the far left corner of the roof, he dropped the duffel bag that had been slung across his shoulders onto the ground. Kneeling, the Phillip-masked individual began to route through it.

"What's your position?" A staticy, familiar voice buzzed through his earpiece.

The young male chuckled from beneath the mask. "I am on ze roof… estimated rendevous weel begin een five minutes."

Meanwhile, the other robbers continued to threaten their hostages.

"O-Oh GOD! Oh Jesus! We're gonna die, man!" Tweek flinched, cowering on the floor next to Kenny.

The other blond looked at the vagabonds. "Don't worry Tweek, these guys are full of shit." He challenged with a cocky smirk. "The police are on their way… they'll all be pissing their pants in five minutes. Shit, they're amateurs." He scoffed.

The other hostages and civilians looked at Kenny like he was insane.

"S-Shut up man!" Tweek begged as one of the robbers approached them.

He was also wearing a Phillip mask. "Amateurs, huh?" He sneered, grabbing Kenny by the scruff of his neck. Tossing him into the middle of the floor, a number of other burglars began to beat and kick him ruthlessly.

"Anyone ELSE got a smart mouth?" The Phillip mask growled threateningly.

The hostages cowered and whimpered, as they stayed huddled on the ground. Kenny coughed up some blood and chuckled. "That's seriously… the best… you can do?" He panted.

Turning slowly, the Phillip masked robber calmly walked over to him. He stood in front of Kenny – who was kneeling (and bleeding) on the ground – before he casually lifted his gun, and shot him right through the head.

People screamed and cried out in fear and despair as they watched the seemingly helpless teen crumble lifelessly to the ground.

"GAH! O-Oh JESUS!" Tweek yelled.

Clyde looked up from his crouched position. "Tweek, shut the hell up!" He hissed quickly.

The robber in the Phillip mask looked back toward the spazing blond and hastily walked over to him. Grasping Tweek roughly by the scruff of his neck, he pulled him to his feet. "You like making noise?" He sneered. "Let's make a trip to the vault… you can make all the noise you want." The burglar threatened, dragging Tweek behind him.

The blond twitched and struggled, "N-No! PLEASE! Nngh! GOD, HELP ME!" He screamed as he was pulled behind the counter and out of sight.

As another Phillip masked thief entered the vault alcove with his captive, he witnessed the previous Terrance mask finishing cracking the vault's code. The door creaked and it's mechanisms slowly disabled as it began to leak open – displaying countless heaps of money before both burglars and the hostage, Tweek.

"Spot on." The Terrance mask purred – grabbing the duffel bag slung around his shoulder as he headed inside.

The Phillip mask shoved Tweek against the wall, and pinned him there roughly. "Now are you gonna help? … Or do I need to fuck you into submission?" He growled deeply.

"Y-You know I –nngh- will…" Tweek answered, rolling his eyes as he twitched.

The burglar lifted up the bottom of his Phillip mask, exposing only his mouth and the bottom of his nose. "You're no fun." He purred, leaning in and capturing Tweek's lips in a heated kiss. The blond indulged the kiss for a moment, before he shoved the thief away from him.

"Nngh! J-Jesus man, we don't have TIME!" He whined, shoving past the Phillip-masked assailant and storming quickly into the vault.

The other burglar chuckled as he pulled his mask back down, and followed Tweek and 'Terrance' into the vault. The three of them began to sweep as much cash as possible into their duffel bags – clearing off the counters one pile at a time.

When the bags were full, the Phillip mask grunted as he slung the heavy bags over his shoulders – while they headed back out of the vault into the alcove again. "Phillip is waiting for you on the roof, Phillip," Terrance said in a smug, amused tone.

"H-Hurry up and –nngh- hit me," Tweek pressed, anxiously looking around. "I-It can't look like I'm –ack- involved!"

Terrance grabbed Tweek by the front of his shirt, and raised a fist – but before he could strike, Phillip caught his arm. "If you ACTUALLY break any bones in his body… I'll kill you." He threatened.

"How unprofessional." Terrance purred, shrugging his arm out of Phillip's stone-like grip. "Do as planned, and get onto the roof." He ordered darkly.

The thief stared at him intensely from beneath the smiling 'Phillip' mask, before he bound up the stairwell that the previous Phillip had cleared – and made his way up to the roof. When he emerged outside, he saw the other Phillip crouching near the corner of the rooftop, assembling a grappling gun.

"This better work." The other Phillip grumbled, dropping some of the heavy, money-filled duffel bags onto the roof before he took out his 9mm and loaded it.

The first Phillip chuckled, "Eet weel."

Back in the bank, Terrance emerged from the vault alcove with Tweek in tow; bleeding, bruised and stumbling as he was dragged out from around the counter – and tossed into the middle of the floor. The other hostages looked at the beaten teen in pity and fear.

"Right then," The Brit yelled, "Anyone else want to be a hero?" He delivered another sound kick to the trembling, twitching blond's side, causing him to cry out in pain.

Clyde narrowed his eyes, and in an instant, had raised himself up – and body checked the Terrance burglar in the back, causing him to stumble forward onto the ground. Clyde scampered forward and desperately tried to reach his disregarded gun – but two more Terrance and Phillip thieves grabbed him, and began to drag him toward the back vault alcove.

"Hey, let go fuckwads!" Clyde yelled, trying to struggle against the two other burglars.

Once he was in the back vault, the other Terrance and Phillip released him as they shrugged off their empty duffel bags and headed inside to continue to gather the money.

"That was pretty good, right?" Clyde smirked proudly. "I bodychecked that French motherfucker like a pro."

The Phillip mask sighed as he swept bundles of money into his duffel bag. "If you were so badass, you would have volunteered to be a THIEF and not just one of the hostages, you pussy." He chuckled.

"Fuck you." Clyde pouted. "I didn't hear you complain when your ginger boyfriend volunteered to run tech from the van."

The Terrance mask turned to him, "At least he's being useful. All you have to do is cause trouble and get the shit kicked out of you."

"Which, I'm going to enjoy doing." The Phillip mask interrupted as he tossed the duffel bag outside of the vault. Grabbing Clyde by the arm, he shoved him out of the vault as well – before he landed a sound punch across his face.

The brunette whined, "Ow! Fuck, go easy asshole!" He complained.

"You're a hostage, bitch. Shut the fuck up." The Terrance mask called as he finished filling his own duffel bag. Leaving their filled duffel bags near the edge of the stairwell, the two thieves grabbed Clyde and dragged him back into the fray – abandoning him once again with the other hostages.

A Phillip from the roof traipsed back down the stairs again to find two more filled duffel bags. Hoisting them over his shoulder with another grunt, he jogged back up the stairs, the ladder, and finally onto the roof.

"Eez zhat everyzhing?" The other Phillip mask asked – positioning the grappling gun on his shoulder.

He nodded, "Yeah. Couple bundles left, but… fuck it… might as well leave them something, right?" He mused.

The second Phillip mask took a moment to aim, before he shot the grappling hook; both watched it soar across the downtown street, before it latched onto the neighboring building beside the National Denver Bank. The two thieves began quickly attaching the duffel bags full of money to the grappling line – before they zipped them across the suspended wire hanging over the downtown streets, toward the next building.

"Zend zhem up." The Phillip mask said aloud.

The voice on the other end of his earpiece answered, "They should be there in one minute." He said assuredly. "But there was an outgoing call to 911 on someone's cell phone… you have five minutes to clear the building." He instructed seriously.

The other thieves threatened the hostages to stay down, firing their guns again as they headed behind the counter – past the vault alcove – and up the stairs to join their companions. When all six were on the roof, they latched themselves onto the grapple line and whizzed over the street – landing with thuds onto the neighboring downtown rooftop. From there, four split off from two, and began racing down floor after floor until they reached the tenth level.

The other two picked up the duffel bags and started to shove them down the nearest, neighboring air duct – which, consequently, had a large black spray-painted 'X' on the side.

Once they'd done that, they too, left the rooftop and ran down the stairs – only they didn't stop on the tenth floor… they kept moving further and further down until they reached the basement. Heading through the dripping halls, both removed their masks.

Christophe and Craig moved fluently through the basement level of the building, shedding their black clothing as they moved. When they reached a specific maintenance room, the two changed into dark gray jumpsuits – mimicking that of garbage men. Moving over to the air duct, they began to quickly unscrew and dismantle the bottom of it – until they were able to pull out the duffel bags stuffed with money. Craig held open a series of garbage bags, while Christophe tossed the duffel bags inside them – amidst real garbage.

Meanwhile, Token, Stan, Gregory and Cartman emerged from the tenth floor bathroom – suitcases in hand, impeccably dressed in expensive business suits. Stepping into the elevator, the four young men didn't speak; Gregory took out a cell phone and began texting, while the other three just stood there patiently. When they reached the lobby, they exited the elevator and passed a number of other arriving employees; some were milling around chatting to their co-workers, or talking on the phone… somewhere entering the elevators they just left – while others were speaking with reception.

The four young men blended in with the impeccably dressed employees as they headed out the door and onto the downtown street. They stopped with other witnesses, who were watching several police cars pull up to the Denver National Bank. A small group of people were running out of the bank, crying and talking quickly to the officers who were arriving and surrounding the building.

"What's going on?" Stan asked a young woman who was also watching.

She looked over to him, "I think the bank was just robbed. A lot of people are freaking out." The girl explained.

"Really?" He asked, furrowing his brow.

She just shrugged and looked back toward the police who were trying to clear the area. The four young men exchanged a look, before they continued on. Token took out a set of keys, and clicked the button, causing the black Mercedes Benzes to unlock. The four boys got in, and Token began to drive.

A short time later, Craig and Christophe emerged, steering a trolley of garbage out of the back of the building into the nearby alley. Heading over to a van which had 'Jackson's Refrigeration' written on the side, they pounded on the back door three times before it opened and they tossed in the garbage bags, following after.

Smirking, Christophe settled his eyes on Kyle Broflovski – who was seated in front of multiple computers and equipment.

"Butters, aren't you supposed to be driving?" Craig asked impatiently as he shut the doors behind them.

The cute blond looked up, "O-Oh yeah!" He squeaked happily, before he crawled into the front seat and started the van. Craig grumbled and maneuvered himself to the front seat as well, into the passenger side as he began to direct Butters on where to go.

Christophe stayed in the back with Kyle as they began to drive. The Frenchman couldn't help but smirk at the redhead, as he began to shut down the system and remove his headset.

"What are you smiling about?" Kyle asked.

The Frenchman shrugged. "We deed eet." He purred, taking Butters' empty seat and wheeling himself up to sit in front of Kyle. "…Ow about a kees to celebrate?"

"I doubt Stan would appreciate that." Kyle mumbled, though he was helpless to stop the blush from appearing on his cheeks.

Christophe narrowed his eyes a bit as he rested his hands on either side of Kyle's hips. "I do nut trust 'eem." He stated simply.

"You don't trust anyone." The redhead reminded him.

But the brunette simply gave him a calm, bare smile, "I trust you." He argued. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips lightly against Kyle's cheek – dipping his nose into his hair before he stood. "Well done, Kyel…" He said with a nod, before beginning to change back into his regular clothes.

Kyle watched him for a moment, before he turned around and looked back toward the computers – which were shutting down.

He couldn't believe they actually pulled it off…

* * *

By the time they arrived back in South Park, the money had been divided eleven ways, and the boys dismantled. They'd left their hometown under the guise of a 'camping trip', which, their parents obviously had no problem with. After all, they were all 21 years old, and were almost 'adults' who had started attending Park County University.

But with age, came new responsibilities, and frankly, NONE of the boys had been looking forward to the debt they would accumulate by going to University. In fact, the only person who didn't NEED to be involved in the heist was Token… but apparently, he was a bit of a thrill seeker, and got involved just to prove he could help them pull it off. Besides, fronting the cash for the fancy car, the expensive suits and the equipment made him all the more beneficial. Kyle had taken care of the research, the floor plans, and the security checks – while Gregory and Christophe had cased the bank for its weaknesses and the 'opportune' moment.

As the boys dropped off the rental van at the lot once more – they all headed in their separate directions.

"G-Gee… when do you think Kenny will come back?" Butters asked hesitantly; he'd been the only one NOT on board with killing his boyfriend – but the group felt it necessary to 'kill' a hostage to help scare people into submission.

With Kenny's ability to come back from the dead, the choice had been a no-brainer. "I'm sure he'll be back tomorrow, Butters." Kyle sighed, gripping his own duffel bag tightly as he began to walk alongside Stan.

"You think Clyde and Tweek will be ok?" Token asked. "Neither one of them does well under pressure."

Gregory narrowed his eyes, "That twitching blond better not blow the whistle on this entire plan. If I find out he's given us all up… I'll show him 'pressure' like he's never felt before." He threatened out loud.

"Tweek isn't going to talk." Craig snapped defensively, moving right up to position his taller form in front of Gregory. "He and Clyde are taking the BIGGEST risk staying behind to go through all that questioning." He reminded the British blond. "So you'd better just shut your fucking mouth."

Stan grasped Craig's arm and tugged him away from Gregory. "Easy boys, easy." He smirked. "We've done the job, and nothing went wrong. Kenny, Clyde and Tweek will be back before we know it – and then things can go back to normal."

"He's right, who cares?" Cartman finally chimed in. The husky young man had been rather quiet during the whole endeavor – which was rare… but then again, all the boys knew of Cartman's long-time, boy-hood dream to acquire a million dollars. Now, with the bundles of cash they'd all secured, he was over that goal. All the boys were set for life. "Remember assholes, NO ONE can deposit this into the bank. Keep it with you for a few days while the heat dies down… then deposit it in small amounts. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves." He grumbled wearily.

Stan rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, we GOT it." He brushed off quickly – before he slid his hand into Kyle's and tugged him to a faster pace. "Let's go celebrate." He purred, sliding another arm around the redhead's waist.

Kyle blushed and nodded – but when he looked up, he saw Christophe staring at him calmly. Gregory was speaking with the Frenchman, as his hand rubbed along his back suggestively… but Christophe didn't seem to be paying any attention to his blond companion. Looking down and away from the attractive brunette, Kyle willingly went along with Stan as they headed back to their apartment.

"You wanna come over for a beer, Craig?" Token asked, as he began to get into his car to go home.

The noirette shook his head, "No. I'm just gonna take my share and Tweek's share home… I'll wait for him to call me." He mumbled, before he began to walk off in another direction.

Cartman had already started off and was halfway down the street with his share, without a goodbye. Gregory and Christophe left soon after, while Token drove off. In fact, Butters was the only one left standing there alone with his, and Kenny's, share.

"A-Aw hamburgers." He grumbled cutely to himself, as his skinny arms began to drag and heavy bags of cash along behind him toward their apartment. Luckily it wasn't far… but it would have been so much easier if Kenny were there to help out.

* * *

Token and Craig stood at the South Park bus terminal around 7:30am the next morning: watching the Denver bus pull in slowly and park – before it's passengers began to get off.

They caught sight of Clyde first, and then Tweek scampered down the stairs and off the bus after. When they saw their friends waiting across the street, Clyde waved and began to casually walk over. Tweek, on the other hand, twitched and trembled as he saw Craig; the blond made a quick attempt to run toward him – but Clyde instinctively gripped his arm, preventing him from running into the street without looking.

Once the way was clear, Clyde started across in a walk, while Tweek burst into a run directly toward Craig. The noirette was ready, and when his boyfriend jumped up into his arms, he was there to catch him. "Are you ok?"

"Nngh!" Tweek shuddered, wrapping his arms tighter around the dark-haired young man. "Y-Yeah… but… Jesus, what if they find out! What happens? Christ man, I-I don't –ack- wanna be interrogated again!" He whimpered.

As Clyde finally reached the other side, he rolled his eyes. "Tweek, it's over. We're fine, they don't suspect a thing." He continued. "How did the rest of the plan go?" The brunette smirked, looking to his best friend.

"As well as it could have." Token shrugged. "Everyone got back – the money's divided and life goes on."

The foursome headed toward Token's car and slipped in; Clyde got into the passenger seat, while Craig and Tweek got into the back.

* * *

When Butters woke up the next morning, alone in his bed, he sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. He was about to start lamenting, yet again, over the absence of his boyfriend – who'd sacrificed himself for 'dramatic purposes' during the heist - when something caught his attention.

But that pity was replaced by anxiety when he heard someone routing around in the kitchen of the apartment. Leaning over the side of the bed, Butters looked beneath it to see their two duffel bags (which contained their share of the money) still safely tucked beneath it. If that was a robber, he hadn't found the money yet. Whimpering, the thin blond grabbed a rather large knife that the couple contained in the drawer of their bedside table. Kenny had insisted on keeping one in there for Butters sake, SHOULD he ever need to defend himself when he was alone.

Clutching it in his small hands, Butters quietly crept out of the bedroom and toward the hall. Shaking a bit as he moved, he tried to be as brave as possible, and peeked around the corner. To his surprise (and great relief) it was Kenny.

"Kenny!" Butters shouted, dropping the knife on the nearest counter before he bound over to his boyfriend and into his arms.

The McCormick descendant chuckled, "Hey Buttercup… glad to see you're alright." He purred, nestling his nose into the baby-soft hair of the small young man.

"Well g-gee, I'm glad to see YOU'RE alright." He corrected, looking up into the cerulean blue eyes of his taller lover. "We got our share!" He added brightly. "It's all under the bed, s-safe and sound."

Kenny nodded. "Good." He paused, glancing toward the hall, before looking back to the blond in his arms. "I was thinking… we should probably leave."

"L-Leave?" He repeated quietly in complete confusion. "W-Well… why? What's wrong?" Butters inquired worriedly.

The sandy-haired man shook his head, "Nothing. At least, not YET." He mumbled. "But we've come into a lot of money… we all have." Kenny began to explain. "And while I trust most of our friends, I don't trust ALL of them. Namely: Cartman." He said, taking Butters' hand and leading him back toward the bedroom. "And if I know that fat sonofabitch, it'll only be a matter of time before he either tries to swindle us out of our money one by one… or, tries to take it by force. At least if we ditch South Park for a while, we won't have to worry about it."

"A-Aw Ken…" Butters mewled, looking around anxiously as he bumped his fists together. Kenny had already started to toss clothes into a suitcase. "I… I don't know about this…"

Kenny turned around, and looked to the small blond thoughtfully. "Butters… what's holding us here?"

"Well… n-nuthin'…" The other admitted tentatively.

His boyfriend took a few more steps toward him. "Don't you trust me?" He asked quietly. "I just want to keep you safe." He purred, cupping Butters' cheek into his hand as he looked down at him. "I finally have the money to take care of you the way I'd like. We can be just as happy… if not happier… somewhere else." He soothed.

There was a brief moment of silence between them while Butters considered the option… before finally, the small blond began to smile.

"A-Alright…" He concluded brightly. "L-Let's do it!"

* * *

"So… what, they just up and left?" Stan asked suspiciously as the group sat around their apartment.

Kyle and Stan had invited everyone over to their place after Kyle had gotten a letter from Kenny and Butters – explaining that they left South Park, but would try and keep in touch.

"Apparently." Kyle shrugged, handing the letter to Gregory – who was reaching out toward it. "Kenny doesn't say much. He just says that since they have the 'means' to leave, they figured now was as good a time as any."

Clyde scoffed, "I don't trust that poor piece of shit."

"I hate to admit this, but he's right." Gregory agreed calmly. "It's rather suspicious that the two would disappear just after the heist. What could they possibly be running away from?" The Brit asked rhetorically.

Stan grumbled and paced around the apartment. "I swear to god, if Kenny squealed on us and ditched out, I'll kill him."

"Calm down." Kyle scolded, feeling the tension in the room rising quickly. "First of all, Kenny and Butters would NEVER turn on us. They have no reason to." He reminded them all. "Besides, why would they betray us after we GAVE them a cut… AND have two mercenaries on our side?" He shrugged, looking over at Christophe and Gregory. The Frenchman gave Kyle a supportive smirk and nodded. "Maybe they were just tired of South Park. It's not the craziest thing Kenny's ever done."

Craig sighed; he was seated in a comfortable armchair with Tweek sitting on the floor right between his legs – nursing a coffee. "I agree." He mumbled with a lazy shrug. "They left… who cares? Tweek and I will probably leave soon, too. Why would we STAY in South Park when we finally have the money to move somewhere else?" He asked sarcastically, threading his fingers absentmindedly into Tweek's wild blond hair.

As the others continued to talk, Kyle slipped off to head into the kitchen, taking a few empty glasses with him to clean from their guests. As he stood in front of the sink and loosely rinsed them out.

"You zhink zhey weel drop eet?" The smooth, familiar voice of the Frenchman interrupted his thoughts.

Glancing back toward Christophe, who was casually leaning against their kitchen counter and eying him – Kyle sighed. "I hope so." He shook his head. "I mean, I don't like this whole thing either, but… I trust Kenny." He admitted. Pausing, Kyle glanced toward the den. "But I DON'T trust Cartman."

"Why eez zhat?" The brunette asked curiously; though his voice didn't convey any sort of 'surprise' at Kyle's statement of distrust for his childhood rival.

The redhead shrugged, "Well, look at him. He's just sat here all night… listening while we talk about this whole thing. Have you ever known Cartman to keep quiet? About ANYTHING?" He clarified suspiciously. "Something's up."

"Mmm." Christophe murmured, narrowing his eyes toward the den, before he looked back toward Kyle. "Per'aps you are just being paranoid, ah?" He mused, moving closer toward the slightly younger man. "Eet eez a tense time. For everyone." The Frenchman pointed out. "You imagination runs wild when mon'ee and secrets are concerned."

Kyle nodded, and couldn't help but close his eyes when he felt Christophe's arms warmly wrap around his slender waist, pulling his back against his chest as his nose and lips nestled against his ear.

"I weel nut let anyzhing 'appen to you." He promised in a low voice.

The redhead let out a shaky sigh, and flushed as he pulled himself out of Christophe's arms reluctantly and turned around. "Uh… t-thanks." Kyle cleared his throat awkwardly as he kept his green eyes down.

Christophe let him go, but didn't really step away from them. Kyle had to admit; the feeling of the French mercenary's warm body heat pulsing against him was comforting and kind of… alluring.

"Hey." A voice from the doorway interrupted.

Turning, both saw Stan standing there, semi-glaring at Christophe because of his proximity to his boyfriend. "Everyone's gonna take off now." He said dully, keeping his eyes glued suspiciously on Christophe as he walked in and stood beside his boyfriend. "So… have a safe trip home." Stan finished in a firm tone that seemed to suggest the Frenchman should take his leave.

"Bonne nuit." Christophe muttered, connecting his eyes with Kyle's once more, before he headed out of their kitchen and followed everyone else out of the apartment.

Stan turned back to Kyle as they heard everyone leave, "What were you guys talking about?" He asked curiously; though his voice was portraying a bit more of his jealousy than he would have liked.

"Nothing." Kyle blushed, shaking his head as he continued to rinse out the glasses their guests had used. "I was just saying that I don't trust Cartman. He was so quiet tonight."

His dark-haired boyfriend shifted his eyes down, "To be honest, I don't trust _anyone_ right now." Stan admitted with a bit of a growl.

"You still trust me, right?" Kyle asked hesitantly, moving back to his boyfriend to wrap his arms around his neck.

Stan looked down at the slightly shorter redhead - and for a few moments - didn't say anything. His stare made Kyle a bit uncomfortable – almost as much as his lack of response. "Yeah…" Stan finally answered, resting his arms loosely around Kyle's waist.

For some unsettling reason… Kyle didn't believe him.

* * *

"Don't stop… believin'… hold on to that feel-ay-e-ahn…" Cartman sang beneath his breath as he screwed on the silencer to the tip of his gun.

He was currently riding the elevator up to Token's penthouse apartment. He and Clyde had moved in to a new 'fancy' building in South Park's downtown area – and took up the top floor penthouse. Why Token had ever agreed to do the job, Cartman didn't know; the guy already had enough money to last him five lifetimes.

As the elevator opened, Cartman stepped out and held his gun ready. Reaching the front double-doors of their penthouse, the husky young man gave it a firm kick – easily busting open the doors. You'd think there might be more 'security' precaution for the doors of the individual apartments… but the building itself was enough hard to get into with security in the lobby. Luckily for Cartman, getting past the downstairs security hadn't been hard. Everyone could be bribed; he'd learned that as a child.

Hearing their door smash open, Token and Clyde immediately rushed over to see what had happened; their faces dropped when they saw Cartman standing there – pointing a gun at them.

"Where's your money?" He asked, knowing fully well that none of them were supposed to 'deposit' it; ergo, the money would be around. When the boys didn't answer, Cartman sighed, "It's NOTHING personal… I just started with you because I felt like it." He smirked. "I'll be hitting everyone else as well."

Token's eyes narrowed, "You're a selfish sonofabitch." He growled.

"Oh Token," He chuckled, "Your petty insults will only make this entire situation worse. Get. The. Money." Cartman ordered.

Exchanging a look, the two young men paused, before Token went over to a picture on the wall. Taking it off, he revealed a safe. Cartman waited patiently while he opened it, and revealed two black duffel bags. Taking them out, Token begrudgingly tossed the bags down and in front of Cartman.

"You always were an asshole." He growled. "You won't get away with this. Everyone's going to find out." Token reminded him.

Cartman stuck out his lower lip and shrugged – before calmly raising the gun and firing it; shooting Token right in the middle of the head. His lifeless body crumpled to the ground. Clyde's mouth dropped open in complete shock. His eyes immediately welled up as he looked back to Cartman, shock and fear turning to anger and pure hatred. Unfortunately, he never got a word out – before Cartman shot him in the head as well.

As the two lifeless bodies of his childhood companions lay on the ground, Cartman calmly picked up the two duffel bags and slung them over his shoulder – before he headed out of the apartment without looking back.

* * *

_"…Police still have no suspects regarding the cold-blooded murder of local college students: Clyde Donovan and Token Black." The news anchor explained. "The Black family is using their wealthy resources to try and avenge their son, and find his killer."_

Kyle and Stan stared at their television – watching the news report intensely. "I knew it…" The redhead hissed, shaking his head. "I KNEW that fatass was up to something!"

"Calm down." Stan sighed. "We don't know it was Cartman."

His boyfriend looked at him quickly, "Are you kidding? Stan, we KNOW it was Cartman – who else would be stupid and SELFISH enough to do something like this! No one knew about the money except for us… and since the police didn't mention anything about it – obviously, it's missing." Kyle deducted quickly.

Standing up, the redhead began to pace anxiously as Stan watched.

"We've gotta come clean." He said finally.

Stan tensed and stood, "… Are you crazy?" He asked seriously.

"Look, I know it's not right. And yes, we'll get in a LOT of trouble – but I'm not going to let that fatass get away with something like THIS! He's gone too far, Stan!" Kyle pleaded angrily. "Come on – he KILLED two of our friends! Cartman's only goal in life has been to become filthy rich. While splitting the money from this stupid job was enough for the REST of us… Cartman won't stop until he has it all. He's a selfish asshole!"

To Kyle's surprise, Stan stood up and grabbed Kyle's arm roughly. "Kyle, listen to me," He began in a dark, low voice. "We're not telling ANYONE about this. No one is coming forward… no one is confessing… because we swore we wouldn't." He reminded his boyfriend. "I'm not going to jail. If you're worried about Cartman coming after us, then we can leave."

"What?" The redhead yelled, glaring at his boyfriend. "You can't be serious! Stan we CAN'T let him get away with this! We've—"

But he was cut off when Stan's rock-hard fist connected with his face, sending him reeling backwards onto the floor. The pain immediately throbbed in his cheek, as Kyle looked up to Stan in utter shock.

"No Kyle." Stan growled deeply. "Let. It. Go." He ordered. "If Cartman comes after us, then we'll kill him first. But NO ONE is coming forward."

Instead of storming out, or leaving the room, Stan sat back down on the couch slowly – and kept his eyes firmly on his boyfriend. Kyle couldn't believe it; he didn't even know what to say. He had always been a moral person, and he'd thought Stan was too… but this was too much. This was becoming more and more serious, and Kyle didn't think he could handle it. Cartman had crossed the line – and as much as Stan might hate to acknowledge it, the only way they'd keep everyone safe, would be to come forward.

But Stan had been acting strange ever since they'd finished the job. Kyle didn't know what to think… and as much as he hated to admit it… he found himself trusting Stan less and less. There was something about the look in his eyes – the more serious nature he'd adapted – and the way he spoke to him now.

Maybe the paranoia was getting to him.

Standing up finally, Kyle shifted around the couch and went into the kitchen to get some ice for his cheek, which was still throbbing. Part of him wanted to fight back; he wasn't a weakling… and if anyone else had punched him, Kyle would have certainly hit back. But Stan was his boyfriend… he'd just done it because things were tense, right?

_'Ring ... Ring'_

The sound of their phone startled Kyle, but he quickly answered it. "Hello?"

_"You 'eard ze news, oui?"_ The familiar sound of Christophe's voice on the phone made Kyle release a slow, deep breath. It was a relief to hear the voice of someone he completely trusted.

Kyle nodded, holding the phone. "Yeah… just saw it." He answered in a low tone. "It's Cartman."

_"Oui."_ Christophe confirmed. _"Zhat much eez obvious. Are you alright?"_

The redhead bit his lower lip, considering his answer, before he finally said, "Yes. You?"

_"For now."_ The Frenchman answered bitterly. _"Eez Stan with you?"_

Kyle paused again, "…Yes."

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end, before Christophe finally replied.

_"…What's wrong?"_ He asked intensely. _"Deed somezhing 'appen?"_ He pressed; there was some hesitance in Kyle's voice that Christophe didn't expect when he'd asked about his lover.

Kyle sighed and glanced around the kitchen, before continuing in a hushed voice. "Stan's just… acting weird." He whispered into the phone. "This whole thing has me really worried… I-I mentioned something about going to the police and telling them it was Cartman, but… he… freaked out."

Another heavy silence filled the receiver of the phone.

_"Kyel… I want you to get out of ze apartment."_ Christophe ordered in a slow, deadly tone. _"You are nut safe zhere."_

The redhead furrowed his brow, "Wait, why?… I know he's upset, but… h-he'd never actually—"

_"Money changes people, Kyel…"_ Christophe interrupted knowingly. _"Eet can cause paranoia… fear… and irrational be'avior. Zhis was your first time. And your moral center weel onlee cause suspicion and meestrust."_ He explained gravely.

"Kyle?"

Stan's voice made the redhead jump, and without thinking, he quickly hung up the phone. "Hey…" He greeted awkwardly; the sight of Stan standing in the doorway made him kind of nervous.

"...Who was that?" He asked.

Kyle shook his head, "It was… just Christophe. Checking in." He swallowed, trying to force himself to relax. "He saw the news too. He just wanted to know if we were ok…"

"...So why'd you hang up on him?" Stan asked suspiciously; his normally soft blue eyes appearing a bit harder than usual.

The redhead paused, tensing up a bit himself as he shook his head. "I… y-you just startled me," He mumbled awkwardly.

Oddly enough, Stan didn't say anything. He just stared at Kyle suspiciously. He knew that his boyfriend had never really liked or trusted Christophe – and despite the fact that Kyle had been LOYAL to Stan (no matter how much Christophe might appeal to Kyle sometimes) – his best friend was always weary that Kyle was cheating on him.

That phone call probably didn't help… nor would the fact that they'd just had an argument.

Kyle stiffened when Stan walked toward him; the tall brunette wrapped his arms around the thin redhead and pulled him close as he looked down toward him with a serious gaze. "You… would never betray me… right?" Stan asked quietly.

"N-No, Stan…" He answered quickly. "I would NEVER betray you. You're my best friend… I love you…" Kyle reminded him.

Without another word, Stan suddenly captured Kyle's lips with his own in a hungry, bruising kiss. He couldn't help but moan as his boyfriend roughly pushed him against the wall – eagerly fumbling with the front of his pants while their tongues swirled together. Kyle was a bit surprised at this sudden act of passionate possession… but then again… maybe Stan was just trying to remind Kyle of WHY they were together.

He was acting so strange; he'd punched him square in the fact not even ten minutes prior… and now… he was ravaging him passionately?

It didn't make sense…

And while Kyle was going along with it… something still didn't feel right…

* * *

"Where are you going?" Gregory purred smoothly, leaning against the doorway of the living room of their apartment, watching Christophe.

The Frenchman was shrugging on his black bomber jacket, and strapping himself up with a few carefully hidden 'weapons of choice'. "I am goeeng to check up on 'im." He answered gravely.

"When are you going to give it up?" Gregory chuckled darkly. "He **has** a boyfriend… and he's made it perfectly clear that he loves him. This whole 'hero' act you're playing up would be funny if it weren't so pathetic." He sneered.

Christophe shot his blond companion a glare, and opened his mouth to respond – when a small, barely noticeable 'creak' hit his ears. His brow furrowed, and just as Gregory turned to look down the hall – Christophe heard a muffled 'shot'… before Gregory tensed, and collapsed onto the ground; his head bearing a small hole, which now had blood oozing out from it.

Hearing another creak in the hall, Christophe withdrew his gun – and fired into the neighboring wall rapidly… before he stopped and allowed the air to settle.

"Just give me Gregory's half, you French piece of shit." Cartman's voice came wafting from the damaged hall. Christophe still couldn't see him, but he knew he was there. "I swear I'll leave."

Christophe snarled, "Bullsheet." He hissed. "You 'ave ten seconds before I end your life." He threatened; cocking his gun back again as he quickly changed the magazine round with one from his belt.

"Well there IS another option." Cartman mused from behind the hall. "I could leave now… and just continue on. I've still got to pay a visit to Tweek and Craig… and Kyle and Stan." He chuckled.

He visibly tensed at the mention of Kyle's name.

"So… you can GIVE me your shares, and prolong me from going to that ginger Jew you seem so fond of," Cartman continued. "OR I can leave right now, and go end his moral misery." He chuckled.

Silence.

Huffing out an annoyed breath, Cartman stepped out from the hall and shot wildly into the living room… but to his surprise, Christophe wasn't there. He furrowed his brow and immediately was on guard again. "Come on, you French piece of shit…" He grumbled, looking around cautiously.

That was, however, until he noticed the fluttering curtain near an open window. Sneering to himself, Cartman rushed over and looked out it. They were fairly high up, but given his experience, Cartman wouldn't put it past Christophe to take some kind of stupid escape risk. Mumbling curses to himself, Cartman searched their apartment from top to bottom… but found no trace of the money.

"Fuck!" He swore loudly to himself, before carelessly stepping over Gregory's body and disappearing out the door again…

* * *

Craig picked up his cell phone as he lazily sat on the couch in his rented house; Tweek was spooned up beside him comfortably watching the Wizard of Oz. "What?" He answered impatiently.

"Gregory's dead." Kyle's voice came from the other end.

The phrase alone made Craig instantly tense. "…What?"

"Just like Token and Clyde." He continued. "Shot in the head."

Craig's eyes flickered down to Tweek; it had taken enough coaxing to calm the blond down after they lost Clyde and Token. Tweek didn't handle it very well, and this was the calmest he'd been since yesterday when they'd found out. Both planned to attend the funeral, but obviously, their death was somehow linked to the job. "Who?" Craig asked calmly – hoping not to upset or tip off Tweek.

"Cartman!" Kyle snapped angrily, clearly on edge. "Who the fuck else? He's the only one who makes sense, and he's the ONLY one who's selfish enough to do something so cold hearted!" The redhead growled. "Stan and I are waiting for that sonofabitch to show up. But I wanted to call you… it could be you next." He said gravely.

Without answering, Craig snarled and shut off his phone – and stuffed it into his pocket. Standing up, Tweek shrieked after becoming startled with the sudden movement. "W-What!" He asked nervously.

"Get upstairs." The noirette snapped firmly. Kneeling on the ground, Craig reached under the couch, and pulled out two 9mm guns, cocking them back and loading them.

Tweek's eyes shot open wider, "W-What's wrong? GAH! O-Oh god! Gnomes? W-What's happening?" He yelled, his eyes watering up.

Sticking one of the guns down the back of his pants, Craig kept the other one in hand while his free arm gripped onto Tweek and began to drag him to the stairs. "GET upstairs, Tweek." He repeated harshly. Stopping at the stairs, he made the blond look at him, "Whatever you hear, don't come down. DON'T open the door, and DON'T make any noise." Craig repeated darkly. "Got it?"

Tweek's lower lip trembled and slowly, he nodded. Despite having told the blond nothing, Craig knew he'd figured it out; it had something to do with the money. And Tweek didn't want to see his boyfriend meet the same fate as Clyde and Token.

Letting out a heavy breath, Craig pulled Tweek against him quickly, and planted a deep, reassuring kiss on his lips. The small blond wrapped his arms around his neck tightly and kissed him back - trembling and doing his best not to cry. When they finally parted, the noirette nodded to him, and gave him a light push to continue up the stairs. Tweek scampered up them and disappeared.

No sooner did his blond boyfriend leave, that Craig heard a loud bang against their front door. Spinning, he held up one of his guns and headed back toward the kitchen. Another solid noise hit the door, this time, smashing it right open. Craig shot wildly to the door, watching Cartman dive out of the way just in time.

He was sure he heard Tweek yell from somewhere upstairs in alarm, but Craig had to ignore it. "You fat son of a bitch..." He cursed to himself. Hearing a series of rushed footsteps, Craig peeked around the corner of the kitchen to see Cartman heading into their living room. Aiming his gun, Craig let out another round of rapid shots in his direction. Glass smashed, and some of their possessions were knocked clean off of tables as he fired blindly - hoping to end that manipulative asshole's life once and for all.

When the shots ceased, Craig stood pressed against the wall, panting heavily as he waited.

"God, I fuckin' HATE you, Craig!" Cartman's whiny voice came from wherever he was hiding in their living room. "Stop being a stupid asshole and just turn over your half!"

Craig scoffed to himself as he tossed the empty gun onto the kitchen floor, and pulled the backup out from the back of his pants. "You've always had a fucked up sense of entitlement, you fat piece of shit." He called back calmly, despite how tense he felt. "What happened to convince you that YOU should get everyone's share?" He called angrily.

"…Because I should. Simple as that." Cartman called back haughtily. "So you can piss and moan all you want, just give me your goddamn share you faggot – or I'll kill that twitching freak you call a boyfriend!" He threatened.

Clenching his jaw, Craig moved from the kitchen door and stormed toward the living room – holding the gun up and shooting with each step he took. He caught a glimpse of moving around behind their couch as he moved toward the stairwell. Craig backed up the stairs as he stopped firing - covering himself as he headed up to the second floor.

The threat against Tweek had bothered him immensely.

Heading down the hall, Craig knocked on their bedroom door.

"Tweek, it's me," He whispered quickly. "Open the door."

There were a few small noises that came from inside, "ARG! ... I-I don't BELIEVE YOU!" He screamed in sheer terror.

"Tweek, it IS me!" Craig called back impatiently through the door. His eyes shifted back to the stairwell as he held his gun ready. The sight of Cartman's head suddenly popping up with a gun – Craig had no choice but to dive out of the way and roll into the bathroom for cover as the fatass began to shoot.

Craig's eyes widened with concern; he hoped to God that Tweek wasn't anywhere near their bedroom door when Cartman had fired up at him. Leaning around the corner of the bathroom, Craig fired down the hall toward Cartman again as much as he could… before his gun simply 'clicked' – out of bullets.

He tensed and growled to himself when he heard Cartman's laugh, "Out already, you dumb cunt?" He called down the hall smugly. "What a waste of fucking bullets. You couldn't hit a barn door, you stupid Jew." He ripped.

Craig grit his teeth together and looked around the bathroom for any sort of weapon… but there was none. "Come out here, dickass." Cartman called.

It took every ounce of strength he had to bite his tongue – before Craig reluctantly got up and slowly walked into the hall. Cartman was standing there smugly; his gun wasn't pointed at Craig, but it was resting idly in his hands.

"I'm sorry to say that I WILL need to kill you." Cartman sighed. "I've never liked you Craig. Since grade school, I have hated your guts." He admitted with a smirk. "So be a good boy and tell me where your shares are hidden." He ordered.

Craig glared at him, but said nothing.

"Speak up, asshole." Cartman warned as he waved his gun into the air.

The sound of the bedroom door opening behind him caught Craig's attention – and instinctively, he dove to the ground and out of the way. Cartman watched him with a puzzled expression, and looked up just in time to see Tweek standing in the doorway – pointing a gun at him. Before he could react, the blond shot repeatedly at him; one of the shots grazing his arm and causing Cartman to let out a string of curses as he bolted back down the stairs and out the door. He tried to reach his own gun back to fire at Tweek, but the wound in his arm prevented any aim, and he disappeared.

Letting out a few deep breaths, Craig looked up at Tweek from his position on the floor. "…The fuck did you get that?" He asked.

"Nngh… y-you hid a gun in the –ack- closet… r-remember?" He commented bashfully, handing the weapon over to Craig.

Standing up, the noirette took it, and stuck it down the back of his pants again, before he kissed Tweek on the lips. "Thanks, Tweekers." He purred genuinely, giving his boyfriend a grateful smile. Nudging him back into their bedroom, he grabbed a duffel bag, and began to toss a bunch of their things into it.

"W-What are you doing?" Tweek asked worriedly, fearing for a moment that Craig was going to leave him.

Craig continued to hastily pack some of their things, "We gotta get out of here." He grumbled. "Cartman's gone for now, but he'll be back. Kenny had the right idea; we have to leave South Park for a while until things cool down." Craig instructed. "Grab our passports, and get the money."

Tweek nodded worriedly, and began to help gather some of their things.

* * *

"Craig isn't answering his phone." Kyle said worriedly. "Neither is Christophe."

Stan sat on their couch lazily. "He's not going to come here." He mumbled. "Cartman's not that stupid."

"This is CARTMAN we're talking about." Kyle argued bitterly, looking out the window of their apartment. Shaking his head, he looked back to Stan. "This was a mistake, man." He sighed. "We should just come clean. I KNEW something like this would happen. Doing ANYTHING with that fatass is like giving him permission to fuck us over." He said.

Feeling a strong hand grip his arm, Kyle was a bit shocked to see Stan pulling him back. "I'm only going to tell you ONE more time, Kyle," He hissed. "We're NOT coming clean. I'm not going back to my stupid house where my dad just wastes away."

"Dude," Kyle sighed, "I know things have been rough since your mom left," He began gently. "But… I'd never do anything to intentionally hurt you. I just think—"

The sound of their front apartment door flying open distracted both Stan and Kyle, and they froze as Cartman came in; one hand holding a gun, the other holding his arm, which was still oozing blood. "Seriously, I hate ALL of you assholes." He spat grumpily as he pointed his gun at the squabbling couple. "You guys havin' a lovers spat?" He smirked.

"Cartman." Kyle growled threateningly. "You fucking fatass…" He hissed.

His childhood rival just smirked, "Oh Kahl… no need to spend your last few moments on earth bitter. Why don't you kiss your pussy boyfriend goodbye instead?" He suggested.

"Knock it off, Cartman. This has gone far enough!" Kyle snapped back defensively. "You can't just KILL everyone off! It's not far, and you have no RIGHT!"

The somewhat husky young man narrowed his eyes at Kyle, lifting his gun a little hire. But instead of firing at him – he shifted his gun and shot Stan, striking the twenty-two year old right in his shoulder. Stan's expression fell as he tumbled back; blood seeping out of his wound and onto his shirt.

"Stan!" Kyle yelled, trying to go back to him.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Cartman warned, pointing the gun back at the redhead and forcing him to keep still. "Give me the money, you ginger Jew rat." He ordered calmly.

He glared at his arch-nemesis. "You won't get far with that wound in your arm." Kyle pointed out. "You're spattering blood everywhere. They'll catch you… even if you kill me." He said.

Cartman looked from Kyle, briefly to the wound on his arm – to see he had in fact, dripped all over their apartment.

"It's a small hiccup." He sneered. "If anyone comes after me, I'll just pay them off…" He shrugged with a devilish smirk. "God _knows_ I'll have the money." Cartman paused, cocking the gun back again. "Speaking of which…" He pressed, motioning for Kyle to get him their half of the money.

But before Kyle could move, another shot was heard – and Cartman's face dropped. Flicking his eyes down to Cartman's chest, Kyle saw blood spilling from his body… before he fell to his knees, and finally, onto the ground; lifeless and still.

Kyle looked up and was shocked to see Christophe standing at the door – looking tired, but focused, as always. He had a bandage wrapped around his forearm, which was tinted red, and no doubt, a recently received wound. "Tophe…" Kyle breathed out in relief as a small smile touched the corner of his lips.

The Frenchman gave a weary smile back – but just as his mouth opened to speak, ANOTHER shot was fired, and he fell back into the hall.

Kyle spun around to see Stan had gotten to his feet. His boyfriend was still bleeding and pale from Cartman's shot on him a few moments ago, but now, he had a gun in hand – and was pointing it at Kyle himself. "S-Stan… why did you do that?" He asked desperately.

"…I can't deal with this." Stan breathed out in an eerily calm voice. "I don't think you'll get over it… I don't think you can live with this money without feeling guilty – and you'll give us all up."

The redhead's face dropped woefully, as he held up his hands in a 'surrendering' gesture, "S-Stan… I swear I won't." He whispered sadly, the fear evident in his eyes. "I-I promise I won't say anything." He continued, shifting his eyes from his agitated boyfriend to the gun in his hand. "But… we l- I love you… you _can't_ do this…"

"I don't have a fucking choice, Kyle." Stan glared. "I love you… but I know you… and you won't let this go. You can say that now, but we BOTH know your moral center will get the best of you…" He said, releasing a deep breath. Kyle noticed Stan's eyes flicker back to where he'd just shot Christophe, and his eyes hardened. "I know you were cheating on me with Christophe." He added.

Kyle's mouth dropped even more, "W-What?" He choked out. "Stan, I-I NEVER cheated on you! I wouldn't…" He stammered anxiously.

"Then why are you so flustered?" Stan snapped.

The redhead's eyes blazed, "Because you're POINTING A GUN AT ME!" He screamed back.

Stan cocked the gun back to a loaded position, seemingly unfazed by the true rationale.

"Stan… please…" Kyle begged as tears streamed down his pale cheeks from his emerald green eyes. "I h-have never cheated on you… I-I love you, you're my best friend…" He said. "You can't do this."

For a moment, the couple just stared at each other in silence.

"I'm sorry, Kyle…" Stan bit out tensely; his own ocean blue eyes were a mixture of confusion, desperation, anger, and weariness. This whole thing had been stressful on Stan, and Kyle knew it. Ever since his family had disbanded and fallen apart, Stan hadn't been the boy he'd known. This only proved it… and now, Kyle regretted not getting out sooner when Christophe had told him to.

The dark-haired young man lifted the gun a little higher, preparing to shoot…

Kyle closed his eyes and tensed; waiting for the shot that would end his life, and toss him into the unknown abyss with the likes of Token, Clyde, Gregory, and Cartman… hell, maybe even Tweek and Craig – if Cartman had gotten to them first.

When a shot was heard, Kyle winced and waited for the jolt of pain.

…But there wasn't any pain.

He didn't feel anything.

Re-opening his green eyes, Kyle didn't see Stan in front of him anymore. Instead, the noirette was sprawled on the ground – a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. Completely shocked, confused, and heartbroken that he was now faced with his dead boyfriend… Kyle turned, and saw Christophe, sitting on the ground in their hall – propped up against the wall and bleeding with a gun in hand.

"…Tophe…" Kyle choked out, rushing over to him. Kneeling down, he helped the French mercenary up to stand, wrapping his arms around him to support his injured weight. "C-Come on, we've gotta get you to a hospital." He said quickly.

Christophe winced, "Non…" He breathed out in a hushed tone. "You… need to clean eet up…" He instructed. "You 'ave to do eet…"

Kyle looked to him in disbelief, before reluctantly bringing Christophe into the apartment – and into their bathroom. Setting him in the bathtub so he could relax and be semi-propped up, Kyle cleared out their medicine cabinet before stumbling back through his now body-littered apartment to grab a needle and thread. Storming back into the bathroom, Kyle tried to wipe his remaining tears on the back of his sleeve before he got back to the bathtub where Christophe was.

"Sew up ze wounds… quicklee…" Christophe told him calmly. "We need to get out of 'ere…"

The redhead nodded, and began to clean up the blood and wounds with alcohol, swabs and disinfectant – before he shakily began to sew up the Frenchman's shoulder. Lucky for him, the shot had produced an exit wound, so they didn't need to try and fish out a bullet. Occasionally, Christophe would wince in pain – but he was very good at hiding it. He just had to focus on something else… and that something was Kyle.

His dark brown eyes continued to flicker over the redhead's face. He looked drained and distraught; this was probably a lot to handle in the span of a few days. Frankly, Christophe wasn't surprised this whole thing had ended in bloodshed and betrayal; these jobs so often lapsed into that direction.

But he was a mercenary and was used to it… someone like Kyle wouldn't be. "Kyel…" He purred gently. "Are you ok?"

"No." He answered stiffly; keeping his eyes on the wound he was sewing. "Half my friends are dead… and my boyfriend was ready to shoot me. So no, I'm **not** fucking ok." He said.

Christophe noticed his lower lip trembling and his eyes watering as he spoke; trying to keep composted. He felt bad for Kyle; the redhead didn't deserve all this chaos. Frankly, he regretted ever getting him involved, but they'd _needed_ his smarts for their tech aspects.

When Kyle had finished sewing him up, he helped him back out of the tub. "Gazher your zhings…" Christophe told him. "We need to get out of 'ere."

Slowly, Kyle nodded and left Christophe to pack a quick bag; tossing in some clothes and some cherished possessions and necessities before he wandered back into his apartment living room. Christophe was already there, and placing the disregarded weapons back onto his person.

Kyle stood there, still unsure of what to do… what to say, how to feel. Cartman and Stan's bodies were still lying in front of him. Years of dating Stan had just gone down the toilet – his lover had switched from trusting him, to almost killing him.

"I am sor'ee you 'ad to go through zhis…" Christophe admitted gently, noticing Kyle's dazed state. He could only imagine what this whole ordeal had been like for the redhead. Moving over to him, Christophe cupped Kyle's face into his hands. "I told you zhat I would protect you… and I weel." He restated seriously. "Do you trust me?"

Kyle looked up at Christophe sadly, trying to force down the urge to burst into tears and melt down – before he nodded slowly. "Y-Yes…"

Who else did he have? No one.

Christophe, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to shelter the confused, distraught redhead. He wanted to kiss him right there and there – despite his wounds, despite the pain HE was in… he was more worried about Kyle. He was always worried about him.

But now wasn't the time. Christophe had just killed Kyle's lover – and the young man had lost a number of his close friends.

"Come." He instructed with a slight gesture of his head. "I 'ave two plane teeckets. We need to leave South Park."

Kyle nodded, still in a daze – but instead of following Christophe, he walked over to a closet and lifted one of the floorboards. Reaching in, he pulled out two duffel bags; his half, and Stan's half. Heading back toward the Frenchman, Kyle paused as his eyes lingered regretfully on Stan's lifeless body…

* * *

Kyle stood outside the famous Louvre Museum with Christophe, who was idly smoking beside him as they waited.

The two had been in Paris for almost three months now.

They'd left South Park together after the dismantling tragedies that followed from the 'bank job' they had pulled. When they'd arrived in Paris, Christophe and Kyle sought refuge in a small apartment the Frenchman used whenever he was back in his homeland visiting his mother.

They had plenty of money to support themselves with - both Kyle and Stan's share, and also Christophe's and Gregory's. It had taken some adjusting, but really, Kyle felt a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders as soon as they'd settled in Paris. He learned French quickly, and fell in love (as most people do) with the city's life and beautiful architecture.

"What are you zhinkeeng about?" Christophe's voice lulled Kyle from his thoughts.

He looked to the tall, mysterious brunette at his side and gave him a reassuring smile. "Just excited to see them, is all." He shrugged.

"Ah oui," The Frenchman nodded. "You 'ave been stuck 'ere wiz me for three months… I do nut blame you for wanteeng to connect wiz your old friends."

Christophe continued to smoke, though his eyes flickered down when he felt Kyle's hand slip into his own. "There's not anyone else I'd rather be 'stuck' here with." The redhead reassured him gently.

Smirking, Christophe leaned down and placed a deep kiss on Kyle's lips. The slightly shorter young man sunk into the embrace and nestled his nose against the mercenary's as they pulled apart.

"I knew you were going to start boning each other." The cocky voice of Kenny McCormick broke the new couple from their haze.

Both turned to see Kenny and Butters approaching with smiles on their faces; they looked well, healthy, and happy. Butters immediately ran forward and wrapped his arms around Kyle in a friendly hug. "I-I'm so happy to see you again!" Butters squeaked out happily. "I'm so glad you're alright!" He gushed, before pulling back and looking over Kyle sadly. "Gosh, Kenny told me w-what happened… with Stan and all…"

"Yeah." Kyle nodded, his own smile faltering a bit, before he shook it off. "We lost some good friends because of this thing… but… we have to look ahead, right?"

Butters nodded, "T-That's right." He said, offering the redhead a warm smile.

Kenny and Christophe had been chatting at this point, before they switched, and Kenny moved over to greet Kyle with a hug. "You ok?" He asked seriously, looking over his childhood friend with concern.

"I've gotten better." He admitted to his friend. "Loosing Stan was…" Kyle trailed off, shaking his head.

The young McCormick man seemed to understand, and nodded along, "Hard." He finished. "I'm sure it was. I didn't think he'd take it all so badly. It's a shame… you were good together." He admitted. But his eyes flickered over to Christophe – who was talking to Butters. "But… he's good for you, too." Kenny encouraged, without mentioning 'who' he was referring to. "He'll keep you safe and grounded."

"Yeah." Kyle agreed, giving a small smile as he looked back to Christophe. The mercenary's eyes connected with him briefly – and he blushed. "He will."

"ACK!"

A loud exclamation drew everyone's attention, and their eyes fell on Craig and Tweek; the noirette leading the blond along like he always did.

"And where did you come from?" Kenny asked with a teasing smirk.

Craig shrugged, still looking as bored as ever, despite the beautiful city they were in – and the amount of money they'd acquired from their bank job. "Not far. We're locals now."

"Really?" Kyle asked, looking to Christophe. "Did you know they were here?"

The Frenchman shrugged, "Oui. I eenvited zhem, did I nut?" He reminded the redhead.

"Why didn't you tell me they were living in the same city as us?" He complained, huffing out a breath.

Christophe shrugged, wrapping an arm around Kyle's waist. "Eet deed nut seem like ze right time." He admitted. "I wanted to make sure you 'ad adjusted to zhis new citee and life… before we met wiz ze past again." He soothed.

"Nngh! I-I'm glad you're all OK!" Tweek yelled, a bit louder than usual as he tugged at his hair nervously.

Kenny smirked, "I'm surprised you got Tweek to settle in a foreign country were English isn't the primary language." He mused.

"He's actually pretty good at speaking French." Craig admitted with a small grin. "He works in a café… just for 'fun', apparently." The noirette mumbled, since all of them had more than enough money to support themselves now.

"W-Well gee fellas, catchin' up is swell, but… aw heck, I wanna go into the museum!" Butters insisted with a cute pout, tugging on Kenny's arm.

Exchanging bemused glances between one another, the three couples headed into the museum to do a bit of wandering for the day. Christophe had gotten in touch with them, and arranged to meet in Pairs just to make sure everyone was doing alright, and adjusting to life outside South Park. Having pulled many jobs like this, Christophe knew an important 'post' step to any job - was the follow up.

As they headed inside and through the line-up, Christophe looked down to the shorter redhead at his side. "Do you steel mees 'im?" He asked calmly.

Kyle shifted his green eyes up to the brunette, and paused only for a moment, before he slipped his hand into Christophe's; giving it a firm squeeze.

"Not so much anymore…" He admitted with a small smile, leaning against the Frenchman comfortably as they moved through the line, and into the actual museum after paying their cover. Kyle did miss Stan - but his best friend had dismantled completely after the job. And he was ready to kill him. So as painful as it was to accept, Kyle knew it was either HIM or Stan that had to go. Christophe had secured Kyle's place on this earth for a little while longer, and he was grateful.

The couples began to wander around together as a group, but mostly stayed focused in their pairs – chatting and enjoying the peace.

They had done horrible things to get here; they had stolen, they had deceived other friends and family… and they'd let things get out of control – as a result, they'd lost some good friends. But they each had a new life now.

"…And over here, is the infamous painting; _Liberty leading the People_ – by Eugene Delacroix." One of the tour guides explained to a small group. Christophe and Kyle were passing, and stopped to listen as she continued with her tour group, "It's one of the many priceless works of art within these walls, and is a real homage to the French Revolution." She said with a fake, broad smile.

Leading the group away, Kyle and Christophe stayed to admire the painting. But when Kyle looked over to his boyfriend, he saw the Frenchman had a mischievous smirk on his lips. The redhead furrowed his brow, looking between Christophe and the painting, before his face fell.

"No." He said knowingly. "No, no no…" He shook his head.

Christophe tilted his head. "Ah, but mon cher, eet would be such a tribute to… eh… our struggles, oui? Viva La Resistance?" He purred encouragingly. "We could 'ang eet in ze apartment."

"No, no no no." Kyle repeated. "We are NOT stealing the Liberty painting." He said firmly, glaring at his boyfriend's bravado.

The brunette grinned, "_S'il vous plaît, mon amour_?" He pressed teasingly.

"Nngh! W-What are you two –ack- talking about?" Tweek asked eagerly as he and Craig approached them.

Kyle looked at the blond, "Nothing. Christophe is just being selfish and stupid – thinking that he NEEDS this painting." He mumbled, gesturing to the infamous picture.

"That's stupid." Craig said with a dull look over the piece of art, before he looked to Christophe. "If we're gonna steal something, it should be the Mona Lisa, obviously." He shrugged. "We'll get way more money."

Tweek tugged on his hair, "GAH! S-Stop talking about that! We're n-not going to do it!"

"Zhat eez a good point." Christophe mused, nodding slowly as his eyes took in the Louvre. "I would be game for takeeng 'er." He agreed, referring to the painting as a 'her'.

Kyle and Tweek just stared at them both in disbelief…


	17. Everything I Needed :: StyleCreekCryle

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD… like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings: **Style, Creek, Cryle

**Summary: **This is just a series of one-shots… I am in-between writing the next chapters for some of my stories (i.e. Absent, Bloodless, Espresso Con Panna, etc).

**Notes I: **There will be a little bit of everyone ;) lol Whatever happens, happens.

**Notes II :** I MAY or may not make some of these into entire fics… I guess it depends on what comes out, and what stories really intrigue me lol OF COURSE – I'd like your opinions as well… so if you reaaaaaaaaaally like one particular shot, let me know J

**Notes III:** WOOT … all the usual, smut, fluff, romance, angst, hurt, friendship, etc.

**Shot-Theme: **Song to the Siren - Paul Charlier & Paula Arundell

**POV:** Kyle

I'm still working on my chapter updates, obvs, but this kind of struck me – and I had to write it down xD

* * *

It was so wrong.

I always considered myself a moral person. I didn't cheat on assignments or tests, I was kind to people, I was helpful and considerate, and tolerant.

Yet here I was… cheating on my 'half' boyfriend.

Stan and I had started seeing each other secretly shortly after we'd started high school. Of course, Stan being who he was had a bit of trouble adjusting. And he was still kind of dating Wendy. Everyone knew she was fucking around with Cartman on the side – but for some reason, Stan felt the need to bounce back and forth between the two of us. I tried to be supportive; he was obviously confused and unsure about what he wanted, and I knew from personal experience that it was hard to admit the fact you might be 'gay'.

But I was more grounded than Stan, and I'd known for a long time that I was gay. Hell, I'd never even really had a girlfriend. I'd come to terms with it, but Stan apparently, hadn't.

So it was bittersweet when we started going out. Sometimes I'd get him all to myself, and other times, I'd have to watch as he canoodled with Wendy at school. It wasn't really a FAIR situation, to say the least.

So when did things end up being so 'wrong' as previously indicated?

Well, 'wrong' in my life came down to two words:

Craig Tucker.

The brooding, dull noirette had been seeing Tweek Tweak – almost as long as Stan and I had secretly been seeing one another. They were such an odd pair, but for some reason, they also kind of worked. I would see them sometimes in the hall; Tweek would be freaking out about something, or clutching helplessly to Craig – who stood tall, strong, and lifeless. I hardly saw him emote anything… EVER.

We were never really friends. I'd gotten the impression that he hated our group – and frankly, I knew Stan and Cartman hated him right back. Kenny and I had always been indifferent. Of course everyone grew up a bit when we were in high school, but still, we didn't really interact. If I was going to be completely, brutally honest with myself – I had to admit, that Craig was a good-looking guy. I was worried my opinion might be biased (since clearly, I have a thing for tall, dark haired boys)… but I learned that most girls (and Tweek, of course) also found Craig alluring and devilishly handsome with his mysterious, quiet nature.

At first I didn't pay these thoughts any attention. Everyone daydreamed occasionally… I didn't think it was anything serious. I only REALLY noticed that I'd been staring when I was in second period one day. Craig and I had the same English class; our teacher had been babbling on about Charles Dickens, and Craig was staring out the window, lost in his thoughts. My green eyes had begun to take in the sharp, defined features of his face; how his raven-back hair was kind of shaggy and long, and fell across his forehead and piercing eyes… how perfectly aligned his features were, and how he didn't seem to have ANY imperfections. Unlike me. I didn't consider myself the best looking guy… granted; I wasn't as 'pale' as I once was. I played basketball on the school team, and my hair wasn't nearly as curly or 'afro' like as it once had been.

Still, I was nothing special. How could I be? Stan wasn't even willing to give up his perfect 'girlfriend' to be with me.

Unfortunately, my lack of concentration was jolted back to reality when I realized the unique color of Craig's eyes… and thus… the realization that he was looking right at me – and I was still staring.

Blushing, I looked away and back to my desk. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I was embarrassed.

I think most people knew I was gay. Even after getting into high school, I never showed any interest in girls. Not that the girls of Park County High still didn't TRY to hit on me and sway me to their 'dark side'… but I never gave in. And while South Park wasn't the most tolerable place, that was partly because of the narrow-minded view of our parents' generation. Our generation didn't really seem to give a shit.

Still, I'd never wanted to 'flaunt' the fact I was gay. I wasn't in your face about it, like Butters Stotch or Bridon Guermo; it was just something inside me. I was still the same stubborn, brainy Jew that tried to stay out of the drama – while occasionally pausing to dismantle whatever racist, selfish ploy Cartman might be venturing toward.

However… something changed over the next few days.

I noticed Craig staring at me.

A lot, actually - and not just in class.

If we saw each other in the hall, or cafeteria, our eyes would meet. He still wore that bored expression, but there was something in his eyes that sent chills down my spine. I tried so hard to ignore it. I tried to feed all my curiosity into my schoolwork and Stan… but Craig kept popping into my head.

The worst was during a make out session with Stan; as my eyes closed, for a brief second, I imagined it was Craig who was lying on top of me in my room.

I jerked away – which only served to confuse Stan. I had to lie and tell him it was nothing, but we didn't go back to making out after that. Instead, we played video games until he got a phone call from Wendy, and had to leave.

The next day I'd gone to school early; my head was so messed up and I'd never felt more confused about what I wanted, or what I was doing. I had decided to sit against my locker with an open textbook in my lap, though I wasn't reading it. I just wanted to 'appear' like I was, in case any teachers or students happened to wander by. But then again, it was about 7:30am. No one was really here yet, since most students didn't arrive till 8 or 8:30.

But my solitude was short lived when a familiar dark-haired teen suddenly arrived and sat down beside me. My whole body tensed as I saw the familiar color of Craig's trademark dark-blue hoodie. The first thought that entered my head was: he smells nice. But that was quickly disregarded.

For the longest time, neither of us said anything. Craig just sat beside me, and I beside him. I didn't look up at him; I couldn't… I was afraid I'd get lost into the abyss of his icy blue-gray eyes. And as far as I could tell, he wasn't looking at me either. We both just stared at the floor.

"You need to stop staring at me." Craig finally said in his monotone, deep voice. He didn't sound angry; in fact, if anything, the barest hint of color in his voice made the request sound almost… regretful?

I raised my eyes a bit, but kept staring at a particular spot on the floor. "You're one to talk."

"Do you love Stan?" He asked without a pause.

I didn't really have to think about my answer, "I think so."

"What kind of answer is that?" Craig mumbled slowly, as if he were treading on unfamiliar ground.

Biting my lower lip, I struggled to keep my eyes on the ground and away from him. "Do you love Tweek?"

"I take care of Tweek." He answered, almost as quickly as I had.

Taking his natural response, I repeated calmly: "What kind of answer is that?"

A wave of silence fell between us, and a thought occurred to me; maybe we were in similar positions. Maybe we were both with people that depended on us… but who were never completely there for us. Stan was always going back and forth between being straight and gay… and Tweek was always going back and forth between being stable, and unstable. I got the feeling that Craig tended to be placed second when it came to paranoia and cups of coffee. Kind of like how I was always placed second when it came to Stan's heterosexual battles, or Wendy.

Figuring I had to try and be a grown up about this, I finally let out a deep breath – and gathered up my courage to look at him.

That deep breath I took immediately hitched in my throat when my eyes met his; I realized he'd already been staring at me, and I had no idea for how long. I swallowed nervously as his eyes ran over my face – before he stood… without another word… and walked away.

* * *

The winter formal dance was an affair I'd been dreading. It took place on the last day of school before Christmas holidays. I was Jewish, so frankly, I didn't really care… but a holiday was a holiday.

I had asked Stan to go with me, and initially, he'd said yes. That was a few months ago; and since then, I'd had anxious butterflies in my stomach… I'd been hoping that THIS would be the night we came out as a couple. But one-week prior, Stan had me over to his house, and explained that he'd have to wander around with Wendy. Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled… but… as pissed off as I was, I accepted it.

I always did. We were best friends, and I didn't want to loose him.

So I let him lead me on, and disregard me when his fear got the better of him.

We still showed up together, but after a few moments of chatting – Wendy showed up, and Stan gravitated over toward her. He left me at our table with Butters and Kenny (who were feeling each other up under the table), and Cartman (who was sulking as he watched Wendy dance with Stan).

Before I knew it, I was alone at the table. Most of the senior students in our class had decided to get up and socialize or dance as the song 'True' by Spandau Ballet came over the sound system. I suddenly felt like I was in some cheesy eighties movie. Or maybe that was a combination of the music AND the fact I was left alone at the table – dressed in a formal suit, occasionally looking up to see my best friend (and secret boyfriend) dancing with his real girlfriend.

Fuck my life.

The lonely ache in my chest wasn't going away, and this stupid song and 'formal dance' atmosphere wasn't helping. Standing up, I slipped out of the gym and emerged outside into the brisk air. I could still hear that stupid song playing; it's intensity dulled through the walls of the school. It was chillier out now; unfortunately, Stan and I had left our coats in his car, since we'd parked close and didn't want to lug them inside. I regretted it now.

As I began to contemplate my chances of being able to walk home without freezing to death in my simple suit jacket, a voice pulled me from my thoughts…

"You're leaving?"

Turning quickly, I found myself once again locked into the calm gaze of Craig Tucker. He was leaning against the wall, cigarette loosely gripped between his fingers. He had his winter coat on over his own suit… and I had to admit he looked absolutely gorgeous dressed up. I tried to force that thought out of my head, but it wouldn't budge.

"Yeah." I finally answered. "This… isn't as fun as I thought it would be." My voice sounded hurt, despite the fact I was trying to play it off as careless.

Craig kept his steely gaze on me. "You can't walk home like that." He pointed out, referring to my lack of proper, winter insulation.

"Well I can't stay here." I snapped a bit defensively.

A heavy silence fell between us. My eyes had lowered away from Craig, and were staring at the flat snow, which had been crushed outside the 'exit' doors of the gym by previously arriving senior students. That stupid song playing from behind the walls of the gym wafted into my ears again as we stood outside in the calm, quiet night.

Hearing Craig shift, I looked up to see him flicking away his cigarette and approaching me. I kept my eyes locked on him as he came to stand in front of me; my chin lifted a bit to look up at the taller noirette. I felt my heart beating a mile a minute as the attractive teen stood inches away from me. I could feel the comforting heat radiating off of his coat-and-suit clad body. It was only then I realized how cold I actually WAS without my winter coat.

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his waist, and hugged him - my head resting against his chest as I felt the warmth from his body spreading into mine. Part of me expected him to freeze up, or push me away. Instead, the standoffish, brooding teen wrapped his arms around me and held me close. My eyes drooped shut when I felt his hand pet me on the back of the head; his fingers dipping into my loose ruby curls as we stood there.

This was all I needed right? A hug. When bad things happened, or you felt rotten… sometimes, I simple hug was all it took. And right now, I felt safer, more comfortable, and more relaxed than I had in years. It was a terrifying and confusing revelation; I didn't even know Craig that well. I couldn't even tell you if he had siblings. Still… I could see why Tweek clutched to him so much. There was a silent strength that surrounded Craig – and despite his moody and standoffish nature at times – you couldn't help but admire it.

"I'm sorry." I found myself mumbling to him, as my head rested against his chest. I noticed his heart was beating rather fast, though not unnaturally so. It was comforting.

While I didn't specify what I was 'sorry' for, I figured he'd know; I wasn't used to just hugging people, and as far as I knew, Craig wasn't used to BEING the one hugged… never mind enduring it.

"Don't be." He answered; his voice rumbling in his chest and making me all the more inclined to get closer to him. "Sometimes… people just need to be rescued."

What a profound statement… and coming from Craig, of all people, who was always a guy of few words.

Feeling myself getting more and more caught up in his scent and the comfort of his strong form – I reluctantly pulled away from him. Vibrant green met piercing blue-gray again as we stared at one another, our bodies still close enough to feel the heat.

"Kyle…"

God – the way he said my name just made me want to jump him then and there. But he had Tweek… and I had Stan. Lowering my eyes, I was about to walk away, when I felt something warm drape over my shoulders. Furrowing my brow in confusion, I looked up to see Craig placing his coat over my shoulders; giving it to me.

Then he did something I wasn't expecting… he smiled. Well, it wasn't a full smile, or even a partial one. The corner of his lips just turned up slightly – before he walked away and headed back inside the gym… back to the dance, and back to find Tweek, no doubt.

Without waiting another moment, I put on his larger coat properly, and started to walk home…

* * *

The holidays weren't the greatest, but then again, they never were for me. I barely saw anyone; everyone was engaging in family activities and going shopping for Christmas gifts – while I took to reading, or watching my younger brother while my parents ventured out of town to visit relatives. I was well aware how pathetic I was… especially since I just sat around with the aching possibility that Stan MIGHT call me to do something.

When he finally did call – it was to invite me to a Christmas party at Clyde's house. I reluctantly agreed; to be honest, I had nothing better to do. The only reason I was reluctant was because I knew Wendy would probably be there. But another realization popped into my mind soon after…

Craig also might be there.

I still had his coat. I hadn't seen him after the dance, since that was the last day of school for the holidays. I could only assume he had an extra coat, and was in no big hurry to get it back from me.

When the party rolled around that night, I arrived at Clyde's alone – figuring Stan would prefer to go separately and meet up. As soon as I got inside, I gave Clyde the coat Craig had given me… and told him to give it back to Craig. When he asked me why I couldn't give him the coat myself, I gave some kind of bullshit answer – and quickly disappeared into the throng of people in his house.

While I had initially been excited to see Craig, my nerves got the best of me. I really had to stop thinking about him. He was with Tweek, and I had no business trying to wedge myself into his life for a false sense of comfort, simply because I wasn't getting it from Stan.

It was just too fucked up. I debated breaking it off with Stan all together… we were happier when we were just 'best friends' and not secret lovers. He clearly wasn't ready for anything like this. But every time I got up the courage – simply looking into his eyes dismantled said-courage. He was good-looking, just like Craig, and it was hard not to get flustered around good-looking people. I could never do it.

I worried that if I broke it off, I'd be alone for the rest of my life. Besides, I loved him. Stan knew me better than anyone else; he was my best friend, he was compassionate, moral and caring – though kind of a goofball sometimes… but it was a good balance to my more serious nature.

If you loved someone, you stuck by them, right?

I believed that. Though I wasn't so sure about Stan; since we'd gotten together, he hadn't really stuck by me. At least, not in the way that I'd hoped.

As I drifted around the lively Christmas party, beer in hand, a familiar blue chullo caught my eye. I froze for a second and watched as Clyde approached Craig – handing him the coat as they spoke. Their lips were moving, but I was far enough away that I couldn't hear their conversation. But when Craig looked up and began scanning the crowd intensely, I slipped away as fast as possible.

Moving into the kitchen, I headed through the basement door and downstairs to the small rec-room area. There were a few old couches, a lamp and an old television down there, but nothing special. I noticed Butters and Kenny on one of the couches, and Stan on the other.

"Hey Kyle!" He greeted; his face brightening when he saw it was me who'd stumbled downstairs.

Smiling, I moved over and sat down on the couch beside him. Within a second of my arrival, Stan had shifted over and wrapped his arms around me. I figured he was only being so outwardly comfortable with me because Butters and Kenny were down here (and already knew about us) – and Wendy wasn't here. It was a bittersweet feeling.

I couldn't help but close my eyes as Stan's lips trailed down my neck, around my jaw, and then back up to my cheek. I let out a content sigh as I relaxed into his body and the sensation of his lips on me again. It didn't last too long, though. Kenny interrupted us to pass a joint our way. Figuring we had the rest of the night – Stan and I accepted, and started to smoke pot with Kenny and Butters (though Butters wasn't really participating).

Just as the pot began to cloud my mind and REALLY relax me, someone else traipsed down the basement stairs to join us. I erupted into a coughing fit when I realized it was Craig. He was staring at me intensely with those bright eyes of his again.

"Hey Craig." Stan greeted lazily.

Craig narrowed his eyes on him, and flipped him off before planting himself in an old armchair that was situated near the couch Stan and I currently occupied.

That's when things got awkward.

And what was worse is that I had no IDEA of why it became awkward. There was just an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach. As the joint was extinguished and the four of us began to chat idly… I withdrew more. Stan kept trying to kiss my neck and pull me closer, but I continued to shift away from his advances. Not to mention, I couldn't even LOOK at Craig. The glimpses I caught of him out of my peripheral vision confirmed that he was just staring at me. At us.

"What's wrong?" Stan finally asked, seeming a bit confused and impatient by the fact I had become distant.

I shook my head - the flush on my cheeks luckily unseen because of the dim lighting in the rec room. "Nothing." I answered, giving him a warm smile.

Stan nodded, and then stood – grabbing my hand and tugging me up with him. I couldn't lift my eyes to even GLANCE at Craig as I was pulled past him, and back up the stairs. My best friend led us through the thick crowds of people again, upstairs, and to an empty bedroom. As soon as we were in, his lips were on mine.

I remember wanting to resist. I wanted to bitch at him for being so fickle with our relationship and my heart.

But I couldn't.

Stan was familiar and intoxicating – and I only wanted more. I wanted him to want ME, and I wanted to have him to myself. A moan escaped my mouth as I was dropped back onto the bed; Stan's familiar weight making me all the more anxious. I wrapped my arms around his neck and heatedly meshed my eager tongue with his, while his hands explored my skin he dipped beneath my shirt. I could already feel my pants growing tighter, as Stan's own hips ground against my own…

But this bout of pleasure was short lived as soon as Stan's cell phone started going off. Grumbling impatiently, Stan answered it. I lay beneath him, also impatient, while my hands playfully fumbled and tugged on the front of his jeans. I was still eager and willing to keep going… until I saw the look on his face. As he ended the brief conversation, Stan looked down at me regretfully, and slid away from me.

"What?" I asked breathlessly, sitting up in confusion.

Stan adjusted his shirt again, but kept his eyes down and away from mine. "Wendy's here." He said quietly, obviously embarrassed.

"…So?" I snapped angrily, standing up.

We stared at each other for a few moments, before Stan turned and cowardly began to leave the room. "What the FUCK Stan?" I shouted as I followed him.

"I can't DO this right now, Kyle. I'm sorry, alright?" Stan growled, looking back to me and shaking his head as he continued down the stairs. I followed him, but only until I got to the bottom of the staircase. I watched my best friend weave through the crowd, and arrive at the side of his dark-haired girlfriend.

My whole body was tense.

This was so fucked up. Why did he have such power over me! Why did I LET him?

Grabbing my coat, I began to put it on – when I caught sight of Craig standing on the other side of the room… once more… staring at me. I looked away from him, embarrassed and humiliated, and stormed out of Clyde's house.

Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I trudged down the front walkway and back onto the sidewalk of the residential side street. This was so messed up… so pointless. I shouldn't have to share my boyfriend with anyone; hell, I shouldn't have to FIGHT to hold the attention of someone who 'claimed' to love me.

This is where the cheating comes in… what I previously mentioned.

Craig showed up at my door.

I'd gone home to an empty house; my parents were still out of town, and Ike was staying over at Fillmore's house. It was almost 2am when I heard the knock at my door. I'd be lying if I said it didn't unnerve me. Pressing my ear against the flat of the door, I paused,

"Who is it?"

There was a small moment of silence from the other end, before I heard him.

"…Craig."

My heart immediately began to beat faster as I quickly unlocked the door and opened it. Craig was standing there; chullo still on, black button up pea coat, and looking just as attractive and serious as he had at the party. We stood there silently for a few moments before he stepped in, and I closed the door behind him.

Looking up into his eyes again, my heart fluttered as his intense eyes stared down at me. And then it happened. Craig pulled me into his arms, and our lips met in a heated kiss. I couldn't help but moan desperately into his mouth as we stumbled back through the living room and onto the couch. I noticed his weight was a bit lighter than Stan's beefier 'football' body… but more toned. Craig held nothing back, unlike my best friend; he pressed himself against me as tightly as he could as our tongues and teeth battled for dominance. He wanted this, and that was obvious… he wasn't gentle, or slightly tentative, like Stan normally was with me.

I groaned out loud when Craig licked a wet, hungry trail down my neck and began to fumble with the front of my jeans. I was so fucking hard already that it was starting to become uncomfortable. When he palmed the front of my erection through my boxers, I emitted a lusty cry that was kind of emasculating… even for me. Craig smirked as my hands hastily helped him shrug off his coat, his hoodie and finally pull off his shirt. My slender hands began to roam his chest and shoulders eagerly as he yanked my button down shirt open with a forceful rip. I heard the buttons scatter across the floor of my living room, but I didn't care. Pressing himself against me again, I moaned as his smooth skin rubbed against my pale chest.

His hips were already grinding into mine with a hot need that I'd never felt… from ANYONE before. Especially not Stan.

"C-Craig… _mmph-ugh_…" I breathed out earnestly.

I felt his tongue lick its way back up my neck, while my hands tugged down his jeans.

When our jeans and boxers were both off, I cried out impatiently as his rock hard erection rubbed against my own; his hips teasingly dry humping me. Threading my hands into his shaggy dark hair, I tugged on it roughly – forcing the noirette to look at me.

"This… isn't… a pity fuck, is it?" I said breathlessly; my brain was doing it's best to focus and think as rationally as I could at that moment.

Craig stared down at me. He didn't look as 'calm' or lifeless as he normally did; he actually seemed a bit flushed, still intense but more like a lustful, horny steed ready to mount something. "It's a pity fuck for the both of us…" His deep voice confirmed. "We're pathetic."

For some reason… I was ok with that answer. He was right, after all.

Our lips met again. My scream of painful pleasure was swallowed in the warm cavern of his mouth as he roughly thrust into me…

* * *

I thought it would just be the one time…

But it turned into so much more.

Craig and I lost ourselves in one another; a solace, a comfort that we couldn't find in the people we were with, which was perhaps the saddest part of it all. He was fed up with Tweek's constant drama, his paranoia, his addictions and habits… and I was fed up with Stan's inconsistency and teasing.

Yet still… we stayed with them.

My relationship with Craig was even more secret than my relationship with Stan… and yet, somehow, deeper. In fact it got to the point where I would be eager to get two seconds alone with Craig. We would spend our days silently stealing glances at one another, while we were with a respective friends and boyfriends at school. Sometimes, he'd come over late at night, sometimes we'd meet after school – and sometimes, we would meet in one of the school's bathroom.

Our little affair carried on right up until graduation.

And it was only at our class' graduation party (which was at Token's), that it hit me:

I was going away to university with Stan in New York… and I might not see Craig again.

I was going to be stuck in a dorm room, with my 'sometimes-boyfriend' - who may or may not finally give in to his feelings for me - and Craig was going to be going to Denver University with Tweek.

And it seemed Craig had a similar revelation.

During the party, he and I tried numerous times to venture away from our partners. But when I found a moment to be alone, Tweek would intercept Craig on his way over. And when I saw Craig alone, Stan would come up and intercept me before I could reach him.

It was about 1am by the time I managed to slip outside and around the side of Token's family mansion with Craig. As soon as we were out of sight – I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as I possibly could; tears already stinging my eyes as I closed them. I choked out a sob as I felt Craig's longer arms wrap around my waist and hold me close.

"Are you worried?" He asked me gently; his warm lips against my ear as he held me.

Slowly, I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "Y-Yeah…"

"Me too." Craig admitted.

"I-I don't want to be forgotten." I rambled quickly. "I don't want to go away to university, o-only to be stuck in a room with Stan, who… who STILL might not… I-I don't even know if he'll WANT to ke—"

But Craig pulled away from the embrace long enough to cup my face in his hands, and force me to look at him. "Hey," He soothed, stroking my cheeks calmly with his thumbs as his fingers dipped into my loose, red curls. "You'll be fine." He reassured me calmly.

Looking up to him sadly, I tried to nod – but his reassurance didn't really do it for me. I wasn't only upset about being stuck with Stan; deep down, I knew I was upset about being away from Craig. I would miss his wordless comfort… I'd miss the feeling of being close to him… I'd miss having someone there who was going through what I was.

Craig stared at me sadly for a few moments, before he craned his neck down, and placed a sweet, deep kiss on my lips. I kissed him back; wrapping my arms tighter around his neck – like I was determined never to let go.

"Thank you," I whispered when our lips finally parted. "I…" The words caught in my throat as I looked into his eyes again. "…Thank you." I ended up repeating. "I'm… going to miss you."

He seemed so forlorn; and it wasn't normal for Craig to show any emotion. But there was something lingering in his eyes that I couldn't place. In fact, it made me feel nauseous and excited at the same time; it freaked me out.

Bashfully, I pulled myself out of his arms and backed away from him.

Craig watched me calmly, and made no move to follow me – or get me back in his arms. It kind of irked me; like, I wanted him to fight to keep me there… but I quickly realized he wouldn't be Craig if he did that. He was prepared to let me make my own decisions. We had shit to work out – and while our connection was good while it lasted… I didn't think we could continue. It would just make everything worse.

My eyes met his again, and I felt my heart lurch regretfully.

Turning… I walked away… and didn't look back.

I couldn't look back.

* * *

I finally came back to South Park for our ten-year high school reunion.

My life had been nothing special; at least, not in my opinion. I'd graduated from NYU, and was working in a law firm there (after deciding to follow in my father's footsteps, though I could honestly say, I was more ethical and LESS money grubbing than he was). Still, I was considered successful.

Stan and I didn't continue our relationship when we got to New York. A few months in, I finally got up the courage to tell him off. He apologized… and we remained friends – but we moved out of our dorm room after finishing first year, and went into separate apartments. I found out in our second year that he'd met a girl, and they'd started seeing one another. While it irked me, I was happy for him.

At least he'd made a choice. Sure, I was hurt it wasn't me… but I was also relieved not to have to go through the pain of uncertainty anymore.

I didn't bother with relationships for the rest of my time in University. I did what I always did; I studied hard and I graduated with high honors. Once I attained a placement in a reputable law office and passed my bar exam, I started working steadily. I supported myself, and things went rather smoothly. I ended up dating a few guys here and there, but nothing came of it. It wasn't their fault… it was mine.

Every time I started to get close to someone… he would pop into my head.

Craig Tucker.

No matter what I did, I couldn't forget him. Nothing I did with anyone else could compare to the feeling I'd had with him. It was heartbreaking. I thought about the last time I saw him at Token's grad party often… and I regretted not taking advantage of that night, and spending what little time I had left with him.

So when I received an invitation for Park County High's class reunion for my year – I decided it was time to go home. Stan (who had since married the girl he'd met while we were in university) caught a flight with me to Denver. We rented a car, and drove back to South Park together. I had to admit; while I'd been apprehensive about going back… it was nice to see my parents again. My brother even arranged to come home from Harvard so he could visit at the same time. He always was the smart one… and while I'd initially been jealous about him going to Harvard, I was proud of him.

I left my childhood home after a wonderful dinner, and headed back to my booked hotel room. Sure, I could have stayed with my parents – but for some reason, I didn't really want to go back 'home' after tonight. I figured I'd want to be alone. This was going to be a huge trip down memory lane… and I wouldn't want to endure my mother's rapid fire questioning that would surely come at the end of the evening.

After changing my clothes (I put on a simple dark button up shirt, green tie, and black slacks), I picked up Stan and we drove over to our old high school.

Pretty much everyone had shown up – which surprised me. Even Token, who was still filthy rich, and apparently owned multiple companies now. Cartman came as well; he had ventured into the 'politics' game in Washington, and was doing extremely well. He'd always had a talent for manipulation and words. Stan was working as a teacher at a private elementary school in New York, while Clyde had taken a job working for Token. I'd always thought there was something between them… but there was little proof of it. Still, I caught them exchanging a looks throughout the night; maybe they were just really good at hiding it.

Butters and Kenny had stayed in South Park, and were still going strong. It was only when I caught sight of Tweek that I started to feel anxious… I figured if Tweek was here, Craig MUST be close by.

Unfortunately, I couldn't see him. At first, I casually glanced around, hoping to catch sight of him… but as the night went on, my searching became more obvious and more frantic. Maybe he wasn't going to show; a high school reunion didn't exactly seem like it would be up Craig's alley, but I'd foolishly gotten my hopes up. That was mistake one. I even grew desperate enough to start talking to Tweek, in the hopes of finding out where Craig was. He told me they weren't 'together' anymore; apparently he was seeing Thomas, and they were living together in Denver.

I tried to push him out of my mind. He wasn't going to come, and I had to accept that. I caught up with old friends, like everyone else, and gradually began to relax again as I consumed more alcohol. It was nice; and as much as I didn't miss South Park, I realized, I had missed my friends. They were all still quirky, like they'd been when we were kids – just older now. It was hard to believe we were in our early thirties. I didn't feel or look old, but still. We'd all come a long way.

As the night progressed, things calmed down and the crowd thinned out. I was ready to leave too, but Stan was still catching up with some friends, so I had to wait around since I was his ride.

But as I stood near the refreshment table alone, nursing my last beer… I saw… him…

I lost my breath.

His familiar icy eyes were already focused on me as he casually strolled toward me; hands in the pockets of his black pants. He was wearing a simple black button-up shirt, but had lost his infamous blue chullo. His face was still achingly attractive; he didn't look that different, with the exception of a bit of stylish stubble around his jaw and chin. I slowly began to breathe again as the smile that crossed my lips was met with one from him.

"Hey." He greeted in the voice that had echoed in my memory for years.

I smiled, "Hey."

The two of us stood in silence for a few moments, simply drinking in the appearance of one another. "I didn't think you were coming." I admitted sadly.

"I'm not one for crowds." He reminded me, glancing around at the half empty gym. "Besides… there was only one person I wanted to talk to tonight." Craig said seriously; his eyes once more meeting my own. I did my best to hide the blush starting to creep onto my cheeks. "Wanna get out of here?" He asked.

I glanced over to where Stan was across the room. "I… I would, but… I'm Stan's ride." Craig's face seemed to fall a bit, before he nodded slowly. He looked disappointed, and for a moment, I wasn't sure why – until it hit me. That comment made it sound like Stan and I were still a couple; and that was the LAST thing I wanted Craig to think. "We're not together." I added quickly. "I just… drove."

The noirette relaxed a bit and nodded. "I have my car. I can drive." He shrugged.

Smiling back to him, I nodded and excused myself to go talk to Stan. I quickly explained that I was going for a coffee with Craig (even though we hadn't officially stated we were going for a coffee) – and gave him my keys. Heading back across the gym, Craig was already standing near the doors waiting to go. Joining him, we headed out of the high school and across the parking lot to his car.

When we got in and started to drive, I tried to strike up some casual conversation. I found out that Craig had become a psychiatrist… which, I thought, suited him rather well. He was always really observant, quiet, a good listener – and he had a knack for giving simple, solid advice when he needed to. He wasn't surprised when I told him I was a lawyer, but he smiled like he was proud of me.

Despite being in our early thirties – I could still see the Craig Tucker I knew in high school. He still had that quiet, mysterious confidence about him.

I quickly realized how much I'd missed him. And that was a strange realization; I missed someone I'd never really known, but I'd fooled around with. Not that I considered what we had 'fooling around' in the lowbrow sense of the term… I guess we had connected more than I cared to admit back then.

We pulled into an all night diner on Main Street, and slipped in for a couple cups of coffee. The conversation between us came relatively easy, which was surprising. Craig talked more to me then than he EVER had during our time together in high school. It was nice… comfortable. I'd endured the company of my old, teenage friends all night – and finally – I was with the one person I'd been hoping to see.

The two of us decided to leave the diner around midnight. I was a bit sad, thinking that our time together had to end so quickly…

That was, until, I felt his hand slip into mine as we left the brightly lit diner.

"Feel like taking a walk?" He asked, keeping his eyes ahead.

Unable to keep the smile from my lips, I nodded, "Yeah…" My hand squeezed his own a little tighter for a moment as we began to head down the quiet, peaceful Main Street.

"I really… missed you." I admitted quietly as we walked.

Craig looked over at me, and nodded. "I missed you too."

Everything was closed on Main Street at this time of night, but that was fine.

I had everything I needed.

Finally…


	18. Once :: Cryle

**Disclaimer:** I don't own South Park, or the characters in this story. I simply wrote out the scenario in pure boredom. XD... like all of my other stories lol

**Pairings**: Craig/Kyle

**Summary**: Sometimes you just need to put it all out on the line.

**Notes I**: Yet another addition/one shot between updating my chapter fics haha

**Notes II**: For some reason, I'm really feeling the pair of Craig/Kyle... they are a feisty match for one another lol

**Notes III**: Just a little one-shot. I was watching 'The Office' - and I adore the scene in season two, when Jim finally comes clean to Pam about how he feels. For some reason when I was watching it this time, I thought of Craig and Kyle haha.

**Chapter Song:** Exit Music for a Film - by - Radiohead

**POV:** Craig

* * *

I didn't know what else to do.

I had one shot... ONE shot to get everything off my chest; everything that had been bubbling inside me for the past five years.

Having a crush on another boy wasn't the greatest experience... especially in South Park. Luckily, our generation was nowhere near as narrow minded as our parents' generation; there WERE gay couples within the walls of Park County High.

But having a crush on a Jewish, redheaded bookworm was even worse. Partly because said-redhead was already in a relationship with my childhood rival: Stan Marsh. Kyle and his best friend had been dating ever since we started high school and he broke up with Wendy Testerburger for the hundredth time. I always thought Kyle could do better... namely: ME. But their group had never really gotten along with ours - and as luck would have it, Stan had easy access to his best friend, and thus, swooped in before anyone else.

When we'd gotten to high school, the childhood competitions our groups engaged in kind of diminished. So it's not like we were enemies; sometimes we all sat together at lunch... but personally, I found it too hard to bear. I couldn't stand seeing Stan paw over Kyle at the table. Of course it didn't matter WHERE I went, I couldn't escape it. They were always together - in the halls, in the cafeteria, in most classes and outside of school. It was infuriating. Seriously, I couldn't understand what Kyle SAW in that animal-loving, jock-pussy Marsh.

My only salvation was a science class. Marsh wasn't as intellectual as his boyfriend, whereas I was smart enough to be in whatever class I wanted. There was a difference between being stupid and not giving a shit. Half the time, I just didn't give a shit. School wasn't really 'hard' for me. But on the first day of our last, senior year (when I realized Kyle was in my science class) - I started to give a shit about science. I wasn't bad at it either; my grades sometimes rivaled his own.

After our first test, Kyle seemed to realize that I wasn't as stupid or careless as most people thought... and began to sit beside me at my lab station. From that point on, the two of us were partners for any experiments, lab work or projects. It was the ONLY time I had him to myself... and frankly... he seemed just as into it as I was. I even made him laugh sometimes, though our back and forth normally consisted of dry, sarcastic humor. Still, I secretly loved every second.

But I was Craig fucking Tucker: if I loved something, you never saw it. I had become a master at hiding my true feelings and motivations beneath a mask of apathy, with the occasional display of my trusty middle finger. Though I have to admit, I found myself smiling a bit more when I was in science class with him... not to mention, I blushed a few times. I almost NEVER blushed.

And I wasn't the only one. It might sound crazy, but I swear that on more than one occasion... Kyle would blush. And it would be because of me. After all, conducting experiments sometimes required us to work closely; the occasional brush of our hands seemed to fluster Kyle almost as much as it did me. I was just way better at hiding it. Yet every time I saw his cheeks color, or saw him smile shyly, or catch him looking at me... I inwardly jumped for joy.

None of that mattered though. At the end of class - when I would be on a rare, emotional high - I would come crashing down the moment I saw Stan waiting outside the classroom for us to come out. Within seconds, Kyle would be whisked away by his boyfriend, and I'd be left standing there like the idiot I was.

So when graduation rolled around... I figured enough was enough.

I knew he'd be going to some expensive, Ivy League school. Whether or not Stan would go with him was another question, but I couldn't really give a shit. I had gotten into Denver, so I'd be moving there with Clyde after the summer. But I couldn't leave without telling him. It might be the last time I'd ever see him... what did I have to loose? Worst-case scenario, he says 'no' and we go our separate ways.

Our school did a small spree on a formal dance after graduation; everyone was supposed to get all dressed up and have a 'magical' evening... before the dance ended - and everyone migrated to Token's mansion for a raunchy after-party, which most high schools had. It was just the way it went. And while dances weren't really my thing, I have to admit, I couldn't think of a better time to get Kyle alone, and lay it all out.

I didn't go with a tux or fancy suit like most of the others guys; instead, I just wore a black jacket, black pants, and a black button up shirt. I decided to leave my chullo at home for once. I felt kind of naked without it, but my favorite blue hat didn't exactly scream 'formal'. I arrived at the dance with Clyde and Token, and we all sat at the same table in the decorated gym. Tweek was also there, but he was too wrapped up in his French boyfriend, Christophe. They seemed like a good pair, like Butters and Kenny.

Most of the night, I just sat at our table... it was hard to keep my eyes off Kyle. He looked so damn good in a suit. He was wearing a black jacket, a crisp white shirt, and black pants. Not to mention, his red hair was loosely tousled - and seemed to make his green eyes seem all the more piercing. Damn. For some reason though, I got the impression the full effect of the redhead's appearance was lost on his asshole boyfriend. Apparently, Stan, Kenny and Cartman had decided to pre-drink before the dance, and were kind of acting like dickheads. To his credit, Kyle even seemed a little embarrassed.

Toward the end of the dance, I noticed Stan had finally passed out on the table they were sitting at. Cartman was busy dry humping Wendy on the dance floor, and Kenny was off molesting a very willing Butters in the bathroom. I watched earnestly as Kyle checked sweetly on Stan, before he slipped out of the gym with his cell phone. I saw my chance.

Standing up, I quickly escaped out the doors as well. I didn't see him immediately, but I could hear him talking. As I moved toward the corner of the school, I heard Kyle talking on the phone to his mom; telling her he was crashing at Stan's. Lighting up a cigarette (so it wouldn't seem like I just followed him out here) - I smoked, and waited patiently for him to end the phone call.

When I heard him coming back toward me, I felt my whole body tense and my heart start to beat faster. As soon as he rounded the corner and saw me - Kyle flashed me the most gorgeous, effortless smile I'd ever seen. I almost stopped breathing.

"Hey."

I nodded back, flicking my cigarette away. "Hey." I told myself to just play it cool, but that plan was quickly fleeting from my mind.

Damn, why did he have to look so good tonight?

"Can you believe we're finally out of here?" He smiled, shaking his head as he stood in front of me. "It's so unreal. I can't believe I'm leaving this all behind." There was a hint of nostalgia leaking into his voice.

I ran a hand through my somewhat long, dark hair - pushing it away from my eyes as I focused on him. I knew my eyes were one of my more 'unique' features; they were ten times better than Stan's stupid, normal blue ones. I only wished Kyle would see that. "So, where are you off to?" I asked.

"Harvard." Kyle smiled proudly.

My heart sunk a bit. "Congratulations." I said, offering him a weak smile. As bad as I might feel about never seeing Kyle again, I was still adult enough to be proud of him. "Hey, um... can I talk to you for a sec?" I asked, clearing my throat awkwardly as I stood up straight from my previous position of leaning against the wall.

"About what?" Kyle smirked teasingly. "Did you want to tell me how awesome I am? Or compare our final exams in science? Sorry Tucker, you just gotta face facts... you'll never be as smart as a Jew." He grinned.

I found myself smiling back a bit sadly, "No... I, um..." I began, but the words caught in my throat.

My eyes were locked on his emerald green ones; he was watching me expectantly - but politely. He seemed happy and relaxed; he had no idea what I was going to hit him with.

"I'm in love with you."

There it was; blurting it out was certainly one way to go. Smooth, Tucker.

He furrowed his brow - his smile turning a bit more awkward, as if I were kidding. "...What?" He asked, like he was unsure if he heard me right.

"I'm really sorry if that's weird for you to hear, but... I needed you to hear it." I continued; my voice was low and smooth like it always was. Kyle's face had gradually fallen, and he wasn't smiling anymore. "Bad timing with graduation, I know, but I-"

He cut me off, "...What are you doing?" Kyle asked uncomfortably, shaking his head a bit. He looked semi-distraught, and almost like he was trying to keep himself from panicking. "...What do you expect me to say to that?" He asked almost defensively.

I sighed. For a few seconds, we just stared at one another.

"I just needed you to know." I said finally. "Once."

Kyle shook his head, finally drawing his eyes down as the blush on his cheeks only increased, "Well, I um... I..." He seemed to swallow his words as he brought his tragic, torn green eyes back up to meet mine. "I can't."

"Yeah." I mumbled my response; it was my turn to lower my eyes to the ground.

The faint sound of music from the gym could still be heard; it only reminded me what was awaiting us both inside.

I saw Kyle's feet take a small step forward toward me, as he spoke again, "You have no idea..."

"Don't do that." I snapped quietly, looking up to him briskly. That was the LAST thing I wanted to hear. My heart was sinking fast, and I didn't want to hear any kind of 'what ifs' from the redhead that was crushing my heart.

But he continued, "...what your friendship means to me."

"Come on," I scoffed, shaking my head as my intense eyes focused on his own. "I don't want to do that. I want to be MORE than that." I told him honestly, taking a step forward so I was gazing down into his bright eyes. I tried to ignore the slight, pathetic crack in my voice when I admitted to him that I wanted to be more than just his friend.

I'd never felt more vulnerable... hell; I could even feel my eyes beginning to water as I looked down at his slightly shorter, skinnier form.

But Kyle's eyes seemed unwavering - though steeped in sadness.

"I can't." He repeated. My eyes shifted away from his again. This had gone worst than I imagined. "I'm really sorry... if you misinterpreted things." Kyle continued. "It's probably my fault."

I shook my head slightly. "Not your fault." I told him. Swallowing the lump forming in my throat, I tried to ignore the tears still stinging my eyes. "I'm sorry I... misinterpreted our 'friendship'..."

My tone came out slightly bitter (but more defeated) as I brushed passed him and walked back through the gym doors.

I'd never felt so horrible. That had gone even worse than I expected. It was pathetic to say that the 'hopeful' side of me had almost anticipated him saying 'yes' or maybe that he liked me too.

But this wasn't a fairytale - this was South Park.

I sat back down at my table; no one had even noticed I was gone - which wasn't a big deal, since they probably just thought I had gone for a smoke. I couldn't help but take notice when Kyle came back in... though it was a good five minutes after I had. My eyes followed him as he walked back over to Stan and sat next to his boyfriend, who apparently, had waken up and was chatting enthusiastically with Butters and Kenny. Kyle seemed a bit distracted; his face wasn't as bright as it had been at the beginning of the evening... and it was pretty obvious to me that my confession was now consuming his thoughts.

Good. I wanted him to feel guilty.

But I knew he probably didn't feel half as rotten as I did. The 'rejecter' only took half the emotional beating that the 'rejected' did.

* * *

I immediately regretted my decision to go to Token's party.

I should have just ditched, gone home, and wallowed in self-pity. I took little comfort in the fact that I wouldn't see Kyle again after tonight. I doubted that we'd see each other during the summer (especially after this), and then we'd be moving to different cities. It was a bittersweet feeling.

Actually scratch that. Bittersweet implied that I was happy about something... but there was nothing 'happy' about this entire mess.

I'd managed to have a few drinks at Token's before Kyle and his good-for-nothing boyfriend finally showed up. I jealousy pictured them having a quickie in the back of Stan's truck before arriving. It was so fucking devastating; even though I had no real proof that had happened... just imagining it was enough to make my blood boil. Abandoning drinking in the house, I slipped out back to have a smoke. Kenny and Christophe interrupted my peaceful getaway shortly after, and busted out a few joints. I was more than happy to partake in smoking with them; weed would at least allow me to feel removed, relaxed, and completely out of it.

When we'd finished, the three of us retreated back inside - and lazed around the kitchen. Their small, semi-drunk blond boyfriends soon joined us; I kind of engaged in the conversation, but I was too high and too depressed to really care what they were talking about.

"Are there mixers in here?" The cheerful voice of Stan Marsh interrupted.

My whole body and jaw tensed just hearing his annoying, cocky voice. It seemed like he was grating on my nerves more than usual tonight. My icy blue-gray eyes trailed up to see Stan wandering into the kitchen with a goofy grin, as Kyle followed behind. I was a little relieved to see Kyle looking just as miserable as I was; he was careful to avoid looking at me as he stood in the kitchen with Stan - who was now chatting with Kenny, Butters, Tweek and Christophe.

I wanted to leave... but I didn't want it to seem obvious as to WHY I was leaving. So I just leaned against the counter and kept to myself - ignoring my friends as they exchanged drunken jokes and meaningless conversations. A few times, I DID lift my eyes to look at Kyle (sue me, it was hard not to look at the gorgeous redhead in the room) - but every time I did, a jealous knot twisted in my stomach.

Stan was currently trying to suck on Kyle's neck - pulling and tugging him closer. But to my surprise, Kyle actually didn't seem into it. He seemed kind of embarrassed and distracted, almost borderline annoyed with Stan's behavior as he shied away from the attention.

Unfortunately, as I angrily watched Stan trying to get it off with his boyfriend in front of the rest of us (though to be honest, Kenny and Christophe also seemed otherwise engaged with their boyfriend at the moment) - Kyle raised his eyes to look right into mine.

I froze briefly.

Thankfully, the sad, almost heartbroken look in his green eyes only entranced me for a few seconds... before the anger and embarrassment that resulted from his rejection resurfaced in the pit of my stomach.

Shifting from my position against the counter, I stormed out of the kitchen and stalked broodingly back through Token's monster-sized living room. This was torture. I should have kept my mouth shut... maybe then I could have spent the party having fun like everyone else. Hell, I probably could have had a few last, memorable moments with Kyle that would have allowed us to at LEAST part on good terms.

I picked out a seat near Kevin, Clyde, Token and Cartman - who were playing flip cup. I didn't participate, but I was somewhat amused just watching.

That was, until I saw Kyle pushing through the crowds from the kitchen angrily - phone in hand as he dialed, and slipped outside.

I wanted to ignore him; I wanted to just stay there, and pretend like I hadn't seen Kyle looking semi-distraught and clearly upset as he barged out of the party alone.

But my stupid heart was already thumping in my chest - giving directions to my brain to stand up and follow him. Heading out the front door, I furrowed my brow when I didn't see him. Closing it behind me, the silence of the night surrounded me... and after listening for a few seconds, I heard a familiar voice speaking in a hushed voice.

Taking a few steps toward the side of the mansion - I stopped at the corner and rested against the wall; listening as Kyle talked on the phone:

"...About two hours ago..." I heard him say; I clearly caught him in the middle of his conversation. "No, I didn't know what to say..." He paused. "Yes I know." Another heavy pause, "Um... I-I don't know, Ike... he's a friend, I-" He stopped himself again, listening to his brother on the other end. I'd stopped breathing myself, praying it was ME Kyle was talking about. "Yeah... he's great." Kyle continued; his voice sounding choked up with tears. "Yeah... I think I do..." He admitted meekly.

With a heavy sigh, I stepped out from around the corner - alerting him to my presence. Kyle tensed and turned around, facing away from me and quickly wiping his eyes. "Um, I have to go." He said quickly into his phone. "I will, yeah, bye." He rushed, before closing his cell phone.

Slowly, he turned back toward me as I approached him.

"Listen, Craig... I-" But he didn't get to finish.

Instead, I pulled him into my arms and kissed him deeply on the lips without waiting (or asking) for permission. I felt his smaller form tense against my own for a few moments... before gradually, he sunk into the kiss. To my surprise, Kyle even started to kiss me back. A small moan erupted from the back of my throat when his slender hands came up to cup my cheeks - before they slid back into my longer dark hair. My arms pulled him closer to me as our kiss continued.

It wasn't a heated, porn-like kiss - we weren't trying to devour each other or anything. It was a true, genuine kiss: deep and slow as the two of us savored it.

When our lips finally parted, our bodies remained close, still wrapped in each other's arms. Our noses lightly brushed together as we stared at one another - breathing deeply and unevenly. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that..." I admitted in a husky tone.

"Yeah..." Kyle breathed. "Me too." His green eyes shifted as they stared into mine. "I think we're just drunk."

I furrowed my brow a bit. "I'm not drunk. Are you drunk?" I asked.

"No..." He said, trailing his eyes along my face. Craning my head down a bit, our noses and lips brushed together again - I was ready to engage in another kiss, when I felt his head pull slightly away from mine. "Craig..." He whispered sadly.

I opened my eyes to look into his again; once more, I saw pain - the regret, the embarrassment.

"...You're really gonna stay with him?" I asked. It didn't really need to be clarified that I was talking about Stan.

As his lower lip trembled slightly, Kyle nodded.

My heart sunk again - but this time, at least I was prepared for it.

"Ok." I nodded back; seemingly ready to accept the fact that we were not going to be together. I'd tried... twice.

Slowly, I slid my arms from around him and took a step back. I couldn't be sure, but I could have sworn that Kyle leaned forward a bit as I moved away from him. We stared at each other in silence for a few minutes... and that's when I realized my hand was holding one of his.

Regretfully, I slid my hand out of the redhead's and walked away. But I didn't go back inside.

Instead, I just gathered up what was left of my dignity... and walked home...

* * *

Summer allowed me to isolate myself from the humiliation I felt. Thank god I didn't have to go back and face Kyle in our science class. Since we'd graduated and it was the holiday, everyone was busy preparing to move away for college or university. I only saw friends I wanted to see; namely Token, Clyde, Tweek, Christophe and a few others.

Not that avoiding Kyle kept him out of my mind. I thought about him at least once a day... but jealousy immediately followed. When KYLE popped into my mind, Stan followed shortly after; I could only imagine the two fucking like bunnies, and it still tore me up inside.

What made it even worse was that he tried to call me a few times. My phone would vibrate; I'd look at it, and instantly freeze when I saw 'KYLE' on the caller ID. Of course I didn't answer. I didn't want to have to hear his voice, and after the way we'd left things at the party, I thought I'd been clear that I was letting him go. He chose Stan, and I had to accept that.

So as curious as I was... I ignored the occasional phone call I got from him.

That was, until, he showed up in my room.

There was about two weeks left in the summer holiday. Most of my stuff was packed up already, and as nervous as I was about moving to a new city... I was relieved to finally be getting out of this town. It was about eleven o'clock at night; I was lying on my bed reading when I heard some commotion near my open window. Glancing lazily away from my book, I immediately tensed when I saw Kyle standing there.

He looked as gorgeous as ever, even in a simple t-shirt and jeans, with his red, loose curls tousled so effortlessly across his forehead; illuminating his green eyes even more. But he looked sad. His eyes were a bit puffy, like he'd been crying - and his whole body looked heavier... like there was a great weight on his shoulders. The two of us just stared at one another for a few minutes.

What the hell was I supposed to say? I thought ignoring his few calls would get the message across that I didn't (or rather, couldn't bear) to see him.

But before I could say anything - Kyle crossed the room and crawled onto my bed; straddling my lap as I dropped my book; forgetting it as my eyes ran over him in confusion. "What the fuck are you do-" I started to speak until his lips claimed mine in a deep, needy kiss.

I was stunned, and for a few minutes, I froze. When his tongue lapped over my slightly parted lips, a small moan escaped my throat, and I kissed him back. As his hands threaded into my black hair, my arms snaked around his waist and pulled him closer. Our lips finally pried from one another, and my brow furrowed, "What are you doing?" I asked suspiciously - a small hint of resentment leaking into my tone. Kyle had made his choice, and it was clear I wasn't it. Or rather, it HAD been clear I wasn't it.

"Shut up." Kyle choked out sadly, slamming his mouth over mine again.

I knew it was wrong. I knew I should have protested more... but fuck - kissing Kyle was addicting. His lips rivaled his skin and hair in terms of how soft they were. As we continued to heatedly make out, I could feel a damp wetness occasionally brushing against my cheeks. When I opened my eyes, I noticed Kyle was crying. Frowning, I pulled back from the kiss again, trailing my eyes over his face with concern and confusion.

"Please."

His tone was so sad, so heartbroken.

I wanted to know what had happened; clearly he was upset, and images flashed in my mind of Stan hurting him... emotionally, and maybe even physically. Anger boiled up inside of me, and I wanted so desperately to ask him what had brought him into such a sad state. I had no qualms about kicking the shit out of that jock pussy if he'd somehow hurt Kyle.

Instead, I became distracted as the redhead's lower lip trembled, before he pressed his mouth to mine again eagerly. This time, I didn't protest. I kissed him back - desperately wanting to take away any hurt I could; he wanted a distraction, and I would give it to him. Increasing my iron like grip around his slender waist, I flipped our positions so he was trapped beneath me on my bed. He moaned as I ground my jean-clad hips between his legs.

I felt his hands tugging at the bottom of my shirt; our lips parted briefly so he could pull the t-shirt over my head and toss it aside. The sound of our mingled panting, the occasional moan, and the bed creaking with the increased activity were all that could be heard in the room as my hands began to fumble with the front of his jeans...

When I opened my eyes the next morning, I was met with a mess of red curls. My nose and lips instinctively nestled into the comforting scent of his hair as I took a deep breath in.

We were still in my bed, naked; I could feel the heat of his skin against my own as we lay on our sides. I was spooned right up against his back with my arm draped over his waist. His hand was holding mine - and he squeezed it tighter when he stirred in his sleep... slowly waking up as my lips trailed along the shell of his ear and down the side of his neck.

"What time is it?" His quiet voice asked.

I kept my cold-colored eyes focused on him. "Around seven." I told him.

The two of us stayed in bed for a few more hours, simply holding one another - occasionally kissing, occasionally talking - but not really moving from our embrace. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end... and soon, we both got up and got dressed. My parents and sister liked to sleep late, so I wasn't really worried about walking Kyle to my front door and being seen. When we got there, the two of us paused, unsure of what to say or how to end this encounter.

So I said the only thing I could...

"Good luck at Harvard." I mumbled, giving him a weak smile. "I know you'll do well."

I didn't bring up Stan, or any of our previous heartache. I wasn't sure WHAT last night meant, or what it was... but I knew enough to just keep my mouth shut. It had happened - and truth be told, I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Kyle had a small smile on his lips, but his eyes were still attempting to hide some kind of pain. Leaning in, he placed a sweet, lingering kiss on my mouth. I kissed him back, and when our lips parted, our noses lightly nuzzled against one another before he backed up and disappeared down my front walk way. Leaning against the doorframe, my icy-colored eyes followed him all the way down the street; still basked in the early morning light.

I was almost certain I wouldn't see him again...

* * *

E P I L O G U E

.

::

Clyde and I came home from Denver together - like we always did - for the holidays. It had been four years, and we were both in our last year about to graduate in our respective programs.

As soon as we arrived, Clyde made us go to Token's house before anything else - he was obviously eager to reconnect with his boyfriend (who was consequently away at Oxford during the school year), and I only agreed to go along because Token was my friend too. It was always nice to see him. To my surprise, Christophe and Tweek were also at the house; they had just arrived from Paris the previous night. Apparently, Christophe was still doing mercenary work, and Tweek was working in a caf .

The five of us had a great time catching up, as we always did. But halfway through the night, Christophe got a phone call from Kenny - inviting us out to the bar for a drink with him and Butters.

We headed out to Skeeter's Bar (once a hang out of our parents), and met up with the blond couple - who consequently, had stayed in South Park. Butters had become a teacher and Kenny was working as a mechanic.

I was both relieved and a bit disappointed to see that Kyle wasn't there. I'd kind of hoped he would be; it had been four years since I'd seen or spoken to him... but still... I thought about him. After a couple hours (and seat rotating), I finally landed a seat beside Kenny. We began to chat idly about the good times when we used to skip some of our high school classes to go smoke together outside.

Finally, I found an opening...

"So, you still keep in touch with your old posse?" I asked casually.

Kenny shrugged. "I still talk to Stan and Kyle, but I haven't heard anything from Cartman. Not that I'm loosing sleep over it." He chuckled. "I think Stan's coming in on Saturday, and Kyle will be coming in tomorrow." Kenny told me, taking another sip of his beer. "He's excited to see you."

I quirked a brow at the last comment he'd decided to tease me with.

"...Really?" I asked awkwardly.

Kenny flashed his infamous Cheshire-cat grin. "Yup."

"I thought he'd be more excited to see his boyfriend." I grumbled, downing the rest of my own beer. I just couldn't help but make the comment; I was an asshole by nature.

The blond furrowed his brow, "Why? Who's he dating?" Kenny asked curiously.

"Marsh, dipshit." I reminded him with a scoff.

But Kenny shook his head, "Dude, they haven't dated since high school. They broke up a few weeks before Kyle left for Harvard." He told me. I immediately stiffened at the information; no wonder he'd been so distraught and upset when he'd come into my bedroom. I thought about that night a lot. "I guess Stan wasn't willing to try the 'long distance' thing, and they called it off."

"Oh."

I didn't know what to say... I was too busy trying to keep a smile from spreading on my lips. It was sad news, for sure, and I was hurt that Kyle hadn't just TOLD me what was going on when he showed up in my bedroom. I would have been there for him; maybe I could have helped him through it. But frankly, the news only confirmed my initial belief that Stan was, and always would be, an idiot. Seriously? He gave up someone like Kyle just because of distance? Hell, I knew I would have done everything and anything I could to stay with him... distance or not.

But that was four years ago.

When our group finally left Skeeter's bar, Kenny got a phone call on his cell. As I was about to head to my car (Clyde was going back with Token in his, so I was free to finally go home) - the young McCormick man grabbed my arm and stopped me. I lit up a cigarette impatiently, waiting for him to end his conversation, and tell me why he was preventing me from finally getting to bed.

"...Yeah, I'll come pick you up." Kenny smirked, still staring at me as he spoke on the phone. "See you soon."

Hanging it up, I raised a brow. "What?" I asked.

"Do me a favor?" He grinned. "Go pick up Kyle from the airport."

I stopped breathing for a second. Clearing my throat, I glanced toward Butters, who was waiting in their car for Kenny to join him. Token, Clyde, Christophe and Tweek had already left. "He's... here?"

"Yeah." Kenny nodded. "He caught an earlier flight. He asked me to pick him up, but... Butters isn't really used to driving at night, and I'm too buzzed to drive. Besides, everyone else already left." He explained; though I got the impression the 'excuse' was bullshit. "So, that leaves you." He smiled.

I wanted to protest... I wanted to find some kind of excuse because I didn't think I could stand to see him. It might be too painful. I'd lost four potential years with him because he hadn't told me that he and Stan had broken up. Not to mention, he'd rejected me after I confessed I loved him. But my curiosity won out in the end, and eventually I agreed.

The whole ride to the airport was done in silence; I didn't even have the radio on... I was too nervous, too anxious. I just kept running over all the possibilities in my head. What if he wasn't happy to see me? What if he was already seeing someone else, and Kenny just didn't know about it? What if he was with someone at the airport? What if things were awkward? What if he was mad I hadn't tried to contact him in four years?

When I pulled into the airport parking lot, I saw Kyle standing near the main entrance. It was pretty late, so there was only one other person who seemed to be waiting for a ride. Despite the fact it had been four years since I'd seen him... Kyle still looked as breathtaking as ever. His hair still hung loosely around his ears and forehead beautifully; he was wearing a dark green pea coat and jeans. He looked a bit older, but not by much; he would be about 22 now, while I was 23. I got the impression he'd 'dressed down' to come home, which was only natural.

Sliding out of my car, I felt a bit self-conscious approaching him. I wasn't wearing anything spectacular... but I wished I were. I just had on simple black jeans, a blue button up shirt, and my black winter coat. I also didn't have my lucky chullo... and I wondered briefly if he'd recognize me without it. Or even remember me.

But then again, Kenny HAD said that Kyle was 'excited to see me'... so... that had to mean something, right?

As I walked closer and closer, I saw him look up and focus his eyes on me. He was unresponsive at first... but the closer I got - the more his face seemed to change. It ranged from curiosity, to hopefulness, to surprise, and finally, recognition.

But he didn't smile...

And that disheartened me more than anything.

Stopping a few feet from him, we stared at one another silently for a few moments.

"Hey." I greeted uncomfortably. He still wasn't saying anything; he was just staring at me. "Uh... I know Kenny was supposed to pick you up, but, uh... he asked me..." I explained, clearing my throat awkwardly. I sounded like such a tool. "We all went out for a few drinks, and I think he drank a bit too much... um... so... he asked if-"

My lame, rambling explanation was cut off as Kyle suddenly charged toward me. I stepped back a bit - initially expecting him to punch me. After all, I was only used to people 'charging' at me in a confrontational manner. But shock followed that initial flinch, when he wrapped his arms around my neck and slammed his lips against mine.

I stumbled back a bit from the force of him throwing his weight into me - but I caught myself, and him, as my feet planted themselves and my arms wrapped around his waist. When our deep kiss ended, Kyle placed multiple, smaller kisses along my lips and face before resting his forehead against mine.

The two of us stood there in the cold - in front of the airport - panting deeply as we recovered from the kiss... and our previous tensions and anticipation began to melt away.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Stan broke up?" I breathed out deeply.

Kyle sighed and closed his eyes; "I was embarrassed..." He admitted gently, nestling his nose against mine. "You told me you loved me, and... I still picked Stan. I've never felt good about it... and... it came back to bite me in the ass." He said heavily. "I knew it would."

I nodded slowly, but didn't say anything.

For some reason, 'I-Told-You-So' didn't seem appropriate, despite how eager my inner child was to scream it.

"I missed you." Kyle whispered sadly; his familiar, vibrant green eyes seemed to be searching mine for some kind of reassurance.

Giving him my best, cocky smirk, I leaned in and kissed him deeply again. "I know. Kenny told me." I lied. McCormick had said he was excited to see me, not that he'd missed me. But the two went hand in hand right? I saw Kyle narrow his eyes a bit, clearly unimpressed by my answer.

"I missed you, too." I said after baiting him a bit.

Slowly, a smile grew on his lips to match my own...


End file.
